


That Which Lies Within

by MadDoctorArtist



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Character Study, F/F, First Kiss, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6874816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadDoctorArtist/pseuds/MadDoctorArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tragedy at the Conclave wasn’t the only memory Inquisitor Trevelyan recovered when she wandered the Fade. Now it threatens to destroy everything she’s worked so hard to protect. COMPLETE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Nightmare's Gift

The shriek of collapsing stone was still ringing in my ears as I found the courage to open my eyes again. I was suspended in the air, an endless sky of jade stretching beneath my feet. The mountains dangled from above, waiting to swallow the clouds, and my stomach churned. It wasn’t right. Looking above, the ground awaited, mere inches from my head. Perhaps that would break the spell. I reached out, my finger brushing the cool stone, and then I fell.

I groaned, the world turned right again, and rubbed my sore hip. Everything was tinged with green, and I blinked, stumbling to my feet. This was unlike any place I’d seen on Thedas. My left hand buzzed, and I clenched it to a fist.

“Ugh, where…where are we?” Hawke’s voice came from behind. I turned around, and my eyes nearly crossed over. She was standing atop a ridge, tilted at an impossible angle.

“I believe our Inquisitor may have an idea,” Alastair muttered. He stood opposite, his body facing skywards. I had to look away from them both. It was too disorienting.

“What do you mean?” I flexed my fingers, trying to shake off the pins and needles. “We were falling, and a rift was right beneath us, so I…”

“…decided to break our fall by throwing us straight through it!” Iron Bull growled. He was on the same plane as me, his nostrils flaring. “Do you realize what you’ve done?!”

“You can’t mean…” Cassandra scanned the surroundings, her eyes wide. I’d never seen such fear in her before. “This place, it can only be…”

“The Fade,” Varric finished. “Congratulations, Inquisitor. You’ve achieved a feat no human, or dwarf, or anyone else for that matter, has for the last thousand years.”

My mouth went dry. It couldn’t be! My mind screamed a thousand impossibilities, but my eyes told me otherwise. The hazy light, the jagged ruins, the sickly coloured water…there was no other explanation. We’d crossed the Veil and were standing in the realm of spirits. The very goal Corypheus had strived for since the beginning.

“This is insane!” Hawke was shaking her head. “Although quite preferable to turning into paste at the bottom of Adamant Fortress.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Alastair answered. He began to walk, and the ridge twisted, returning him to the same plane as the rest of us. I tried not to focus on the movement. It was making me nauseous.

“So now what?” Iron Bull kicked a stone, watching it bounce into a pool of stale water. “We can’t just sit here and wait for demons to start sniffing around!”

“Of course not,” I said, finding my resolve. “We’ll find a way out. That rift in Adamant fortress should still be open.” I cast my gaze across the horizon, picking out the pillar of light in the near-distance. The sight appeared identical to the Breach, although much, much smaller. Hopefully it would take us back to the real world.

“Yes, I can see it over there,” Cassandra affirmed. I couldn’t mistake the slight tremor in her voice. “Let us move swiftly.”

Hawke nodded, jumping down to join us, and together we walked towards the pillar of light. The path was uneven, undulating into valleys and ridges, and that horrible green water was everywhere. Yet oddly enough, there was barely any smell. No scent of moisture or rot, but nor anything fresh, either. The air, too, was still and lifeless, lacking any staleness or humidity. Everything felt so empty, and were it not for the solid ground beneath my feet, I would’ve doubted our presence entirely.

It was no wonder no living creature was welcome here.

Iron Bull kept a tight grip on his axe, scouring the rocks for signs of trouble. Normally he thrived in such environments, but now his every step was filled with caution. Hawke and Varric stuck close, exchanging bewildered descriptions of the landscape, while Cassandra and Alastair gawked, their eyes a mix of terror and awe. I myself couldn’t pick between such feelings, but I was far more distracted by the quiet echoes above us.

The spirits were watching.

Abruptly my left hand pulsed. I hesitated, looking to the branching path ahead. The left one led straight to the pillar of light, but something drew me towards the right.

“I think we should go this way,” I said, pointing to the sloping ridge.

“Really?” Hawke raised a brow. “But the pillar is that way.”

“And what makes you such an accomplished navigator of the Fade, anyway?” Alastair piped up.

“I never said I was,” I answered, frowning. “But something tells me that way will be safer. I can’t explain more than that.”

“I’d go with what the Inquisitor says, my friend,” Varric said. “That mark on her hand probably has a better sense of direction than any of us.”

“Well, it’s not like we have anything else to go on,” Hawke added. “Lead the way, Inquisitor.”

Nodding, I took point, drawing my staff. While I’d visited the Fade in dreams before, actually standing in it for real was entirely different. For one thing, the spirits were a lot noisier, and I could catch their curious whispers above. They didn’t pose a threat at the moment, but it would only be a matter of time before we’d attract more unwanted attention.

_Please, come this way._

I froze. That voice; it was a woman’s. One I’d almost certainly heard before.

_Yes, follow the path as your mark guides…_

Frowning, I picked up my pace. The source was nearby. I crested the next ridge, coming to a shallow pool. But it was the figure standing before it that really caught my eye. She appeared a slim, elderly lady dressed in white and red Chantry robes. Her outline was blurry, but the familiarity was almost overwhelming. I’d met her before. Yet no matter how I tried, I couldn’t quite place from where. It was as if the memory had escaped me.

As we drew closer, she looked to me and smiled. The warmth in her eyes made my heart skip a beat. Now there was no mistaking those soft wrinkles and grand mitre.

“By the Maker…” Alastair stopped dead, his face pale. “Is that…are you…”

“Most Holy?” Cassandra’s voice was barely above a whisper.

The woman—if it was indeed a woman—gave a knowing nod. I stared, the tingling in my left hand growing stronger. The late Divine was still here, even after all this time. But how, and why?

“I greet you, Inquisitor, Champion,” the Divine said. “And I am glad to see you too, Cassandra.”

Cassandra stared.

“This cannot be real.” She shook her head, her eyes never leaving the Divine. “We are taught that some souls can linger in the Fade after death, but…” She clasped her sword hilt. “Spirits can also lie.”

“How do you know Lady Trevelyan’s title, anyway?” Hawke questioned.

“Knowledge of the present can be obtained in many ways,” the Divine said, undaunted. She turned to me. “I have watched and waited since the creation of the Breach, and I am glad you have managed to return. Now you can claim what was lost.”

She raised her hand, and Iron Bull flinched.

“Damn it, I’m not falling for no stupid spirit tricks!” He brandished his axe, but Cassandra blocked his path.

“Stop!” They exchanged an intense glare, but eventually Iron Bull relented. Sighing, Cassandra looked to me. “What do you think, Inquisitor?”

“She definitely seems familiar,” I admitted. “But I don’t remember why.”

“It is because that memory was taken from you,” the Divine said, oblivious to Iron Bull’s aggression. “I am here to help you get it back. You will not be able to escape otherwise, nor will you be able to combat the source of Corypheus’s power in the Fade.”

“You mean his demon army?” I asked.

“Yes,” the Divine answered. “It is all down to one demon in particular; the Nightmare you forget upon waking. A demon that has grown fat on the terror in the world, and Corypheus has promised it an endless supply of fear and chaos. So long as he continues to feed the Nightmare, it will do his bidding. As it did the day you first came here, Inquisitor.”

I swallowed. That key moment before the explosion at the Conclave had always eluded me, and now I understood why. It had been taken from me since the very beginning.

“So what do you propose?” I asked.

“Let me help you,” the Divine said. “I know where your memories have been taken, and I know where the Nightmare resides. Once you have restored yourself, you will be able to return home.” She gestured to the horizon. “You will find the first piece in that area. I will meet you there.”

She bowed, and her body took on a golden glow. She rose slightly, then drifted towards the rocks. I watched her, reflecting on her words. That had been a lot to take in, even without our current situation. Still, there was little point stamping my feet and crying denial. I needed to recover those stolen moments, as it would reveal our escape, and maybe inform our next steps.

“So, what’s the plan, your Inquisitorialness?” Varric asked.

I sighed.

“Simple. We take a chance and trust her,” I said.

“Is that wise?” Alastair asked. “She could be working _for_ the Nightmare and leading us into a trap.”

“Alternatively we could wander the Fade indefinitely and be driven to eternal insanity,” Hawke countered, folding her arms. “I don’t know what the heck she was either, but at least she’s given us a trail. Even if we do get ambushed, I’d rather fight what I can see than wait to be possessed.”

“Yeah, she’s got a point,” Iron Bull grunted. He seemed to have calmed a little from earlier, though he still kept hold of his axe. “If it means getting out quicker, I’m all for it.”

“Agreed,” Cassandra said. “I think it is time we all discovered what happened that day.”

She gazed at where the Divine had stood, chewing her lip. She was probably bursting with questions, as was I, but we needed to move swiftly. Every second we remained meant more time for the enthralled Wardens to summon more demons. And if we didn’t return soon, there would be nothing left to salvage.

Squaring my shoulders, I took the path the Divine had suggested, entering a maze of stony crags and shallow water. By now the chittering of the spirits above had ceased, and the newfound silence made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.

“What exactly are we supposed to be looking for, anyway?” Hawke asked, picking her way through the loose stones. Something sticky clung to her boot, and she scowled.

“No idea,” I admitted. “But it must be…”

I was cut off by a mournful shriek. It echoed through the chasm, and moments later a wraith demon appeared. It charged straight for us, and I raised my staff. The fireballs sped out, much more concentrated than usual, and struck the wraith. It howled, its limbs thrashing. A solid blow from Iron Bull’s axe finished it off, and it collapsed to the ground. It lay there for a moment, motionless, before it began to evaporate.

“Hey, what’s that?” Alastair stepped closer, peering at the residue. A pale ring of light floated above the mess, as fragile as smoke. He reached out for it, but his hand passed straight through. My left hand started to tingle, and I clenched my fingers. It had to be the memory.

Cautiously I approached, and my left hand sparked. That burning ache was becoming much too familiar. Gritting my teeth, I ran my fingers through the light. It swirled and danced, attracted to the mark, and that was when the blinding pain struck. I cried out, but no sound escaped my throat. Instead the world shifted, the sickly sky and grizzled rocks replaced by torchlight and man-made bricks.

 _The Conclave_.

_“What is the meaning of this?” the Divine cried out. “Why are you of all people doing this?”_

_Slowly, the vision became clear, and I stared. The Divine was in a private antechamber, suspended in the air as tendrils of magic tethered her arms. A Grey Warden mage was behind her, the source of her binding, and his Warden comrades gathered around, almost gleeful._

_What in the Maker’s name…_

_“Keep the sacrifice still.” Corypheus’s deep tones echoed as he stepped into the chamber. He held the orb in his right hand, and it began to crackle with energy. The same green bolts that now tainted my left hand._

_The Divine’s eyes widened. “Please, someone help me!”_

_Her cry was not unheard, as moments later a figure burst through the doors._

_“What’s going on here?!” It felt so strange to hear myself speak, but it was all coming back to me. I’d been asked to find the Divine who was late to the meeting. And this was what I had found._

_The distraction was barely more than a few seconds, but it was enough. The Divine broke free of the magic, and she slapped the orb from Corypheus’s hand. It rolled straight towards me, and I ran, meaning to pick it up. My left palm touched the artefact, and the brilliant green light surged into my hand. I screamed, as if I’d thrust my hand into a burning forge. Corypheus yelled out, trying to tear the orb from me, but he was too slow. The energy became too much to contain, and the chamber exploded._

I didn’t get to see the rest as the memory ended, and I was thrown back into the wastes of the Fade. I fell to my knees, my arms shaking. Maker, it was like reliving the event all over again.

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra came to my side, concerned. I shook my head, beads of sweat rolling down my forehead. Her expression said everything, and I turned away. They had seen it too. All this talk of Andraste helping me, of being the Maker’s chosen…it was all a lie. The destiny that had been thrown upon my shoulders was the result of mere accident, not divine providence.

How had I been so naïve?

“So that’s what happened,” Alastair mused. “You interrupted the ritual, and the Divine…” He trailed off.

“Is that all you have to say?” Hawke’s tone was brittle. “You’re just going to ignore that entire contingent of Grey Wardens holding the Divine against her will?”

“You’ve seen Corypheus can manipulate Wardens,” Alastair argued. “They had to be under his thrall!”

“Hmph, of course they were,” Hawke scoffed.

“Look, you can raise this issue with the others when we get out of here,” Alastair said, shuffling on his feet. He was growing uncomfortable.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will,” Hawke answered, her voice sharp.

“That wasn’t all of it, though, was it?” Cassandra said. If witnessing the Divine’s demise had had any effect on her, she hid it well. “How did you end up in the Fade?”

Before I could answer, the golden light of the Divine—or whoever she was—returned. She descended slowly, coming to rest before the rocks. The brightness receded, and she was back in her Chantry robed form.

“That piece can be found over there,” she said, pointing to a rock bridge that overlooked a cove. “This way, when you are ready.”

I didn’t wait and rose to my feet, brushing off Cassandra’s hand. She raised a brow, hesitant.

“Are you sure you are alright?” she asked.

“We shouldn’t hang around,” I said, forcing back the tremors. I would not let the realisation overcome me. So what if this had nothing to do with the Maker’s intervention. It was my own fault for getting swept up in the hysteria. For wanting to believe I meant something…

“I understand it has come as a shock,” the Divine said, almost sadly. “You had thought this the Maker’s doing, but perhaps it still can be. Even if He did not grant you the mark itself, who is to say He did not choose you to attend in my time of need?”

“Perhaps,” I muttered. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s keep moving.”

I strode through the rock stacks, and the others followed. I tried not to pay too much attention to their stares, in particular Cassandra’s. Her faith had been challenged, and it filled me with shame. But then why should it? It wasn’t as if I’d claimed the title Herald of Andraste—the frightened people had thrust that upon me. And without my own recollection to refute their words, how else could I have responded? They had wanted a comfort against the growing darkness, and I had let them have it. Perhaps unwisely.

“Bothers you that much, does it?” Varric’s voice interrupted my thoughts. He fell into step beside me, keeping Bianca primed.

I let out a breath. “Hardly.”

“You sure? ‘Cause your face tells me otherwise,” Varric answered, not unkindly. “But you know, I wouldn’t fret about it, Inquisitor. I’d rather believe you earned your title through your choices, not because some higher power picked you on a whim. Just my opinion, though.”

I nodded, slightly comforted, although it didn’t take away my guilt completely. Once we returned to Skyhold, I would need to make some very bracing announcements.

“Thanks, Varric.”

The rest of the journey was spent in silence. Fortunately it didn’t take long to reach the bridge, and we crossed into another segment of the Fade. The water had receded here, leaving us beneath the scarred and towering cliffs. Oddly the pillar of light appeared closer, despite the winding path we’d taken.

_So, who comes to greet me in the darkness?_

The voice echoed all around, and Iron Bull and Hawke started, brandishing their weapons. At the same moment the golden spirit of the Divine returned.

“The Nightmare has sensed your presence,” she said simply. “Do not tarry; find the missing shard of yourself!”

She vanished, and in her place the ground began to boil. Moments later a burst of flame erupted, melting the stone, and a Rage demon appeared. I barely had time to acknowledge it as a peal of thunder echoed, followed by the roar of a Pride demon. A cackling wraith completed the set, and I braced my staff.

Hawke and Cassandra nodded at each other, before charging towards the Rage demon. Iron Bull and Alastair made for the Pride demon, while Varric and I set our sights on the wraith. The feeble thing was no match for some well-timed crossbow bolts and lightning spells, so it wasn’t long before we turned to help the others.

“Inquisitor, watch out!”

Cassandra’s warning came just in time. I ducked, avoiding the Rage demon’s blazing claw. The searing heat made my cheeks flush, and I readied a frost spell. The blizzard struck its chest, freezing it solid. Cassandra and Hawke yelled, charging together, and their blades struck simultaneously. The demon shattered into dust, and they regrouped. I didn’t linger on the victory, taking aim at the Pride demon. It was huge, towering at three times my height, its electric whip tearing through the insubstantial airs. I summoned a rune of flame, throwing it beneath the beast, and it roared. More strikes of steel and thunder followed, and then it was defeated. It crumbled into the ground, leaving a floating ring of brightness.

The memory.

Replacing my staff at my back, I stepped to the hovering light. Once again my mark awoke, sending sharp jabs up my arm. I bit back the urge to flinch, sweeping my hand into the glowing mist. The world trembled as the past came to life once more, and I gasped.

_I was at the bottom of the chasm, dazed, hurt, confused. My left hand was agony, as if a thousand burning stakes had been ploughed through it, and my head throbbed. What happened, where was I…_

_A quiet chittering gnawed through my muddled thoughts. It was ever so soft, barely at the edge of my hearing, but it steadily grew louder and louder. Cold sweat started to pour down my neck, and I forced myself to move. I had to get away._

_“Up here!”_

_I blinked, pushing myself to my feet. Everything was so dark and distant…where could I go?_

_“Quickly, the demons!”_

_The voice broke through the rest of my fatigue, and the haze lifted. A craggy cliff stood before me, crested with an unstable rift. It was the only way out. At the same moment the chittering reached crescendo, and I looked back and screamed._

_A horde of giant spiders spilled from the shadows, and I scrambled for the cliff. Fear drove me to find impossible handholds, and I clawed my way upwards. The spiders shrieked, taking chase. Adrenaline fuelled every movement, sending my heart into overdrive as I ventured higher and higher. The rift pulsed above, and my left hand flared, teasing me with its alluring light._

_“Hurry!”_

_I looked up, spying out an old woman in white and red robes. Divine Justinia; the one who’d guided me here. She reached out to me as far as she dared, and I pushed myself to climb faster. At last our hands met, and she pulled me up. The spiders snapped at my heels, almost upon us, and I broke into a run._

_“Keep running!” I shouted. The rift was right before us now. I stretched out my left hand, and it came to life, sparking energy. But at that instant the Divine cried out. I looked back. The spiders had caught her. I hesitated, making to turn back, but the Divine shook her head. A wordless cry escaped her, and the spiders dragged her off the clifftop. Cursing, I bolted into the rift…_

I clasped my face, the final piece slotting into place. Tears soiled my cheeks, and for a long moment I couldn’t speak. When I finally found the courage to lower my hands, the spirit of the Divine was before me again.

“It was you.” My voice was hoarse. “You let them take you, so I could…” I couldn’t even finish, a lump welling in my throat. How had someone with such power and influence sacrificed themselves for me? A Mage, no less, as well…

“You needed to escape the Fade,” the Divine said. “Only you could seal the Breach, and I had faith you would do so much more, too. It was too late for me.”

_It is too late for all of you!_

The Nightmare’s voice boomed through the air, and I flinched. The others poised their weapons, scanning the surroundings. The stone walls began to tremble, spilling dust, and then they shattered apart. They had been screening the rift, which lay just out of reach behind a stony platform. But it was what was upon the platform that sent chills down my spine.

Tendrils and spindly legs intertwined in all directions, supporting a huge sagging body with multiple blood-red eyes. It towered above us, blotting out half of the sky, and my nausea deepened.

 _So, you’ve stolen back what you freely offered me,_ the Nightmare sneered. One of its tendrils lowered, revealing a human-esque body with spider claws sprouting from its back. _It will be of no consequence if you cannot escape!_

The demon stomped its legs, obstructing our path and sending quakes across the ground. I stumbled, almost losing my footing, but Hawke grabbed my arm. She opened her mouth to speak, when the spirit of the Divine returned. She stepped between the Nightmare and us, spreading her arms.

“This is all I can do,” she said, letting her body become golden light once more. “Please, escape while you can. And tell Leliana I am sorry, I failed her too.”

She drifted right into the Nightmare, and he snarled, swiping at her. The claw passed straight through, and the Divine edged closer. Finally her form touched the bulbous body, and it ignited into light. The Nightmare roared, and I had to shield my eyes.

“Come on!” Hawke tugged my hand, forcing me to run. Half-blind, I staggered after her towards the rift.

 _No!_ The Nightmare rumbled, and a claw shot down from the sky. Hawke wrapped an arm around me and threw us to the ground, narrowly avoiding the blow. I coughed, the breath knocked from my lungs.

“Alastair!” Hawke shot back to her feet, looking back. Alastair had been boxed in by the tendrils and rocks. He was trapped. “Wait for me, I’ll…”

“Hawke, don’t come any closer!” Alastair yelled. “Get back to Adamant before you lose your chance!”

“I won’t leave you here!” Hawke screeched back. “It’s my fault Corypheus is still alive, I should be the one to…”

“And it was the Wardens who led to this mess,” Alastair shouted. “It’s too late for me, go!”

Hawke sprang, her dagger raised, but I snatched her arm.

“He’s made his choice,” I said solemnly. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“But—!”

“If we stall any longer the Nightmare will take us all!” Cassandra snapped. “To the rift, now!”

She sprinted off, diving into the portal without a second thought. Iron Bull and Varric followed, and my left hand burned. It was not going to hold. Hawke gave a last glance to Alastair, before she swore and jumped into the light.

The Nightmare let out a scream, and I looked back. Alastair was dealing savage blows, his armour showered in its blood. His advantage was short-lived, however, as a tendril knocked him aside. He grunted, wiping his scathed cheek, before he plunged his blade into its belly. The Nightmare howled, and for a moment I felt its eyes upon me.

 _You think you have bested me, Inquisitor?_ The Nightmare croaked, its voice reduced to hissing rasps. _Then let me return what you begged me to take all those years ago! Let this be my final gift to you!_

Suddenly a surging pain gripped my temple, and I cried out. The world began to slip, dragging me into another memory. No! I reached for the rift which was fast fading, and my left hand flared. The portal tore open, and I was engulfed by light.


	2. A Past Forgotten

_“Hey, you gonna stare out the window all day or what?”_

_I yelped, falling off my chair and smacking into the floor. The ceiling supports stared back at me, and I groaned. Rubbing my leg, I glanced to the doorway. Kianna stood there, leaning against the doorframe and struggling to hold back hysterics. My cheeks flushed. I hadn’t heard her enter my room._

_“Maker, you must’ve really been out in the Fade if that scared you!” She offered her hand. I took it, returning to my feet._

_“You could’ve said something first,” I said, righting the chair._

_“I did. About eight times, and then I gave up.” She playfully tapped my forehead. “You’ve been skulking in here for days, and for what? You passed your Harrowing, you’re one of us now! We should be celebrating.”_

_I sighed, glancing to the new silver ring on my finger. “I know, but I nearly didn’t get through it. It was a close call.”_

_“Pfft, everyone says that,” Kianna scoffed. “Just because you didn’t do it in ten seconds flat. A pass is a pass, you know.” She prodded my shoulder. “Typical that you’d feel bad, huh. You always want to get the highest grade in everything. Well, how about Her Royal Highness comes down to Ostwick for a second and makes some time for her best friend instead?”_

_I laughed. Kianna always knew how to cheer me up. We’d both been brought to the Circle at the same time, and had never been apart since. She’d come from the slums in Kirkwall, an orphan, but nobody would guess as much, given her cheerful demeanour. It had certainly made the adjustment of living in the Circle tower a lot easier. Being a little older, she’d passed her Harrowing last year, but she had been looking forward to mine ever since._

_“You make it sound like you have plans,” I said, raising a brow._

_“Maybe I do,” Kianna answered, her eyes sparkling. “You’re not an apprentice anymore, and that means the real fun can begin. Come on.”_

_I followed her out into the corridor, wondering what mischief she had planned. It was a sunny day outside, and the light filtered through the gothic windows of the tower. The place I’d called home for the last ten years, and would do so for the foreseeable future._

_“So which demon did you face?” Kianna asked, brushing back her blonde hair as she descended the stairs. “Pride, I bet.”_

_“Actually it was a Desire demon,” I said._

_“Really? That’s a surprise,” Kianna answered. She pushed through the hall, entering the ground floor library. We passed the dusty shelves, crossing to the other side of the tower, then emerged by the Templar’s quarters._

_“Why are we here?” I asked, glancing around. I’d always found this part of the tower most intimidating. Even though I’d become a fully realised Mage, it still sent shivers down my spine. “Not planning to steal Ser Finnigan’s boots again, are you?”_

_“Nah, he’s not worth it these days.” Kianna waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve been looking for a challenge, and I think I’ve found it.” She turned to me, grinning. “You remember that spell you used when…”_

* * *

 

_All eyes turned to the dining hall doors when Templar Lieutenant Ser Risa entered. Unusually her cloak hood was raised, and she walked straight to her table. I had to bite my lip to stop myself bursting into giggles. Kianna kept a completely straight face, though her eyes gave away her amusement. As Risa took her seat, her hood slipped, revealing purple flowers that grew straight out of her dark locks. The Mages on our table and even a few Templars snickered, while the others gawked. Ser Risa didn’t bat an eyelid, helping herself to some vegetables and not at all distracted by the petals that kept falling into her plate._

_“It’s from Orlais,” the Lieutenant announced, when she could stand the staring no longer. “I did not realise its true effects until it was too late. It will wash out, I presume.”_

_The Templars beside her nodded sagely, while everyone else struggled to contain their laughter._

_“I didn’t know our Lieutenant would look so fetching in purple,” Kianna whispered, and I choked back a snort. “Accents her eyes, don’t you think?”_

_“I can’t believe she fell for it!” I said quietly. Kianna had asked me to concoct a botanical potion, and had switched the Lieutenant’s usual hair dye for it. I had to admit I was quite pleased with the result._

_“I’ve waited months for this,” Kianna replied, “ever since she started using that revolting Orlesian hair dye. You can smell it from miles off! But you know I’m useless with potions. That’s why I needed you.”_

_I smirked, watching the frustrated Templars beside Ser Risa brush the falling petals from their food. The flowers wilted fast. Kianna slapped my back, and I coughed._

_“This is just the beginning, my friend,” she declared. “Things are about to get more exciting around here!”_

* * *

 

_“Mage Trevelyan, open your door at once!”_

_The shouts of a Templar broke through sleep, and I blinked. A few days had passed since the flower incident, but Ser Risa hadn’t made any formal complaint; she still believed it had been a mix-up with her Orlesian supplier. So why were they disturbing me at this hour?_

_The knocking came again, louder, and I groggily sat up._

_“I’m coming.” Yawning, I stumbled to my door, pulling a cloak over my shoulders. I’d barely undone the latch when it was thrust open, and the Templar—Ser Brogan—grabbed me. His eyes narrowed, and he nodded to his comrades. They entered my room without consent, and started foraging through my desk, wardrobe and drawers._

_“Wait, what’s going on?!” My heart started to pound. What did they think they were doing?_

_“Here it is,” one of the other Templars said. He was at my desk, and had pulled a tome from the drawer. It had a dark leather cover with metal edges, and a symbol was printed on the front. I’d never seen it before._

_“You’re ransacking my room in the middle of the night for a book?” I was incredulous._

_“Not just any book, Trevelyan,” Ser Brogan said sternly. “One of your colleagues kindly tipped us off that you were dabbling with blood magic, and now we’ve the proof. The Knight-Lieutenant will decide your fate in the morning.”_

_“What?!” Despite myself I struggled against him. “That’s a lie! I’ve never even—”_

_“Save your excuses for the Knight-Lieutenant,” Ser Brogan cut me off. “You’ll have plenty of time to refine them in the holding cells.”_

_“This isn’t fair, you can’t do this!” I cried. “I haven’t done anything!”_

_The rest of my protests were cut short as Ser Brogan elbowed me in the jaw. Blood soured my lip, and I fell silent. I had always been amicable towards the Templars; this treatment was uncalled for. How could they justify dragging me out in the middle of the night? What happened to my right to defend myself?_

_I shook my head as I was led away. This was just a horrible misunderstanding; the Knight-Lieutenant would understand. I had never been enticed by blood magic, and certainly wouldn’t know where to access resources relating to it. Someone had done this on purpose to frame me._

_One of the Templars threw me my clothes, and I drew them close as I was taken towards the holding cells. I had only seen the cells once before, when I was six years old and had first been brought to the Circle. They were placed at the lowest level near the entrance—a warning to all apprentices to the fate that awaited should they be tempted to abuse their powers. I never imagined I would have to see it again ten years later, from the inside._

_The Templar guards waiting at the cells saluted Ser Brogan. One opened the first cell, and I was shoved inside. The door clicked closed, leaving me in almost pitch blackness. On impulse I conjured a spark of Veilfire. A hard oak plank with a pillow served as my bedding, and the walls were solid stone. I sat down, dumping my clothes, and clenched my fist. Now my confusion was starting to fade, replaced by wild anger. I had always abided by the rules, had never drawn too much attention to myself and had never, ever, ventured into the forbidden arts. How dare they treat me like this, dragging me out like a dog in the middle of the night! Surely finding a strange book in my room hardly counted as evidence? Why were they being so harsh?_

_And who hated me enough to make the effort to frame me?_

_The questions continued to rage, and I sighed. I’d get no answers tonight._

_I’d just have to make them see the truth tomorrow._

* * *

 

_“Mage Trevelyan, you stand accused of a very high crime indeed,” Knight-Lieutenant Halloway said. She sat behind her desk, her fingers knitted together, her grey eyes keen. “How do you plead?”_

_“Not guilty,” I said calmly. “I’ve never had intent to use blood magic, nor any means by which to gain knowledge of such. I was not aware of the book discovered in my quarters.”_

_“I see,” the Knight-Lieutenant said. “Then what about these, which were also found in your possession?”_

_Ser Brogan stepped forward, and tossed a small bag onto the desk. The Knight-Lieutenant emptied it, and out fell several items. A scroll flecked with blood, a small knife that was similarly stained, and a phylactery._

My _phylactery._

_By the Maker, this had to be a cruel joke…_

_“It appears blood magic was used to break the protective ward on your phylactery during the early hours of the morning two days ago,” the Knight-Lieutenant said. “And now we have found it in your possession. Do you still plead not guilty?”_

_“Maker, I swear I didn’t do anything!” I offered my hands, showing off my wrists. “Look, do you see any scars on me, any fresh wounds? Where would I have taken the blood from?”_

_“An unwilling victim,” Ser Brogan said. “She reported everything to us, knowing that she would be the first to be suspect. It was extremely brave of her indeed.”_

_“Victim? Who?” I snapped._

_“You should know very well who it was,” Ser Brogan snarled. “Since you have always considered her your closest friend. She told us your entire plan.”_

_My mouth went dry. No, he couldn’t mean…not_ Kianna _. Maker, this wasn’t happening. I was dreaming, this had to be a nightmare…_

_“Kianna will recover physically, but the mental wounds will take longer,” Knight-Lieutenant Halloway said. Her voice was grave. “It seems you cannot argue against such hard evidence. I cannot say I am not disappointed, for you were a model Mage, alas it seems even the best of you can fall to temptation.”_

_“I didn’t break the ward.” My voice was feeble. “By Andraste’s soul, I swear I’m innocent.”_

_“We will put your testament to your mentor, Lydia, and the First Enchanter,” the Knight-Lieutenant said. “However, should they arrive at the same judgement as I, your punishment will be harsh.”_

* * *

 

_I stood in the centre of the tower’s main chamber, my wrists shackled, and on display for all to see. Twelve Templars circled me, watching like hawks. To think I had only been here a few days before, about to face my Harrowing. Now that victory had become utterly hollow. Lydia and the First Enchanter had reviewed my case, and while Lydia was adamant I would never venture down the path of blood magic, the First Enchanter could not be swayed. Together with the Knight-Lieutenant, they had judged, and sentenced me to the Rite of Tranquility. A fate worse than death._

_I shivered. My hopes and fears, my feelings and thoughts; all would be cast away into the Fade, and I would remain an empty husk. I hadn’t even been allowed to speak to Kianna and confront her about it all. I still couldn’t believe she had done this. Why had she betrayed me? When we had done everything together, had supported each other, and so much more? She had never confided that she had any interest in blood magic. Yet how long had she been planning for me to take the fall for her?_

_Senior Enchanter Lydia stood before me, along with the First Enchanter. He was holding a vial of lyrium. Lydia’s face was ashen, and she couldn’t bear to meet my eyes. I knew how much she hated this practice, and what she must be feeling considering her own student was about to face it. I had long since given up my protestations. The Knight-Lieutenant and the First Enchanter had all the evidence they needed, and nothing I could say would sway them. What was the point, anyway?_

_I’d lost everything._

_The First Enchanter stepped forwards, the Knight-Lieutenant at his side._

_“Mage Trevelyan, it is with a heavy heart that I must commence upon you the Rite of Tranquility,” the First Enchanter said. “Once complete, you will no longer have access to the Fade, be that in dreams or via your magic. You will lose your power, but also the risk of possession. This rite has been chosen as part of your best interests, lest we…”_

_He was interrupted as the chamber doors flew open._

_“Stop the ritual at once!”_

_I turned to the chamber entrance. Stephan, one of the younger Mages, had appeared, along with Ser Finnigan. They had brought Kianna with them. Her head was downcast, and her exposed wrists rich in scars._

_“Such intrusion will not be tolerated, Mage Brannick,” the Knight-Lieutenant said, frowning, but Ser Finnigan spoke up._

_“Forgive us, Knight-Lieutenant, but we could not stand by and let an innocent be unfairly punished.” He hauled Kianna to her feet, but she refused to make eye-contact. “Speak your confession as you did to Stephan!”_

_Kianna said nothing for a long moment. Stephan snarled, and snatched her wrist. She scowled, and then finally found her voice._

_“It was me.” Her usual light-hearted tone had disappeared. “I did it. I used blood magic to break the ward and steal the phylactery.”_

_The First Enchanter stared. “What?”_

_“Why did you try to frame Mage Trevelyan for this?” Lydia spoke. Even though her voice was soft, it had an edge sharper than steel._

_“Because she deserved it!” Kianna pushed Stephan aside, her glare venomous. When she didn’t elaborate, Stephan sighed._

_“She was jealous of her power,” he said. “She wanted Trevelyan to be made Tranquil, and while everyone was distracted with the ritual, she planned to take her own phylactery and flee the Circle.”_

_“That was how we caught her,” Ser Finnigan added. “Please Knight-Lieutenant, end this false ceremony and rend your judgment on the true guilty party.”_

_A stunned silence filled the chamber. I stared at Kianna, a dull ache throbbing in my chest. She’d been jealous of me? Since when? For ten years—ten long years filled with cherished memories of laughter and love and hardship and sorrow—she had been everything to me. Nothing like this had ever come between us._

_What happened…why had she changed?_

_Eventually Knight-Lieutenant Halloway sighed, and signalled to her soldiers. Ser Brogan approached, unlocking my shackles, and he bowed in apology. I barely acknowledged him, instead striding to Kianna’s side. She didn’t look up at me._

_“Was it always just a lie?” I asked softly. “Were you just using me all along?”_

_Kianna huffed._

_“You were never worth anything to me,” she muttered. “You should be thankful I managed to find a use for you in the end.”_

_Ser Brogan frowned, stepping forward. He clasped her wrists in the same shackles, then led her away. I watched her leave, tears pricking my eyes, but I forced them back. I would not give her the privilege._

_“I’m sorry.” Stephan reached out to me, but I brushed his hand aside._

_“You’ve done enough for me,” I said simply. “Thanks.”_

_“Trevelyan…”_

_I didn’t answer and walked away._

* * *

 

The vision ended, and I sat bolt upright, my brow soaked in sweat. My breath came in short gasps, and I grasped my chest. A dull ache had settled there—a pain I’d thought buried forever—and it wouldn’t budge. I curled up on the bedroll, suddenly feeling cold. The mere recollection of her name made bile rise in my throat, and I swallowed it back. Why was Kianna back to haunt me? Why could I recall every moment of that torment with such clarity?

 _The Nightmare’s final gift_.

“Inquisitor?”

I startled, looking up. Cassandra was nearby, sitting outside her tent. We were surrounded by tall stone walls, and a fire blazed amidst our camp. It seemed we had remained in the Western Approach, and were residing in the Griffin’s Wing Keep. The sky was dark, flecked with stars, and the air was cold. I started to shiver, so I drew my blanket closer.

Cassandra stood up and approached, her eyes filled with worry.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, sitting beside me.

“I…what happened?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I didn’t want to dwell on the dream.

“You don’t remember?” Cassandra let out a sigh. “After we escaped the Fade, you closed the rift, but then you fell unconscious. It has been almost a day since then. And you didn’t answer my question.”

I stared at my lap. How did I feel? _Hurt, betrayed, angry_ …

“I’ll be alright,” I lied. “Getting back my memories was quite overwhelming.”

“I can imagine,” Cassandra said. “I’m sorry.” She made to touch my shoulder, and I flinched, reminded too closely of the memory. Cassandra withdrew her hand, puzzled. She soon let it drop, however, and turned to the fire. “So, what is our next step? We have yet to decide what to do with the Wardens, although Corypheus’s hold on them has fallen.”

“We’ll…We’ll discuss that in the morning,” I said, hoping to seize on the distraction. But even then I couldn’t shake the feelings off.

“I expected as much. Rest well, my friend.”

Cassandra stood, then departed back to her tent. I remained sitting, listening to the crackling fire and quiet chatter of the night watch. I had buried that pain so deep I hadn’t even remembered it was still there—and the Nightmare had been holding it close as its trump card. Now it had been returned to me, still as painful as when I’d been in that chamber, about to be made Tranquil. It wasn’t right. How could something from so long ago continue to hold such power over me?

I shook my head, glancing to the mark on my left hand. I’d been vulnerable and afraid as young apprentice, and had opened myself too much. I’d given my trust too freely, and paid the price for it.

I would not let that happen again.


	3. A Means for Survival

I sighed, rocking a quill between my fingers as I sat at my desk. The incomplete report stared back at me, as it had done almost all day. I’d started off well enough, but my thoughts kept drifting, distracting me. Even without the controversy I’d stirred by recruiting the Wardens, I had plenty else to weigh me down. No matter how I tried to gloss over it, that near-miss in Ostwick still plagued my mind. Now I remembered everything, and it left a very bitter taste. Kianna had been imprisoned, and awaited her own Rite of Tranquility. I’d been very conflicted about it. Her betrayal had wounded me deeply, but even I wouldn’t wish such punishment on anyone. Nevertheless, the First Enchanter went through with it, and Kianna lost all memory of the event. She was then moved to Kirkwall, and I never saw her again.

It had been an empty time after that. I tried to lose myself in my studies, and kept away from everyone who ventured too near. That didn’t deter Stephan, as he tried to take Kianna’s place at my side. He was hardly a stranger to me—we’d trained for our Harrowing together—but the whole incident had made things too awkward. Looking back, it was obvious he’d had a crush on me, but regardless I never allowed him too close. I never allowed anyone that close again.

My fist clenched, and a sharp crack signalled the end of another quill. Scowling, I tossed the broken pieces aside, reaching for another. I was dwelling on it too much, but perhaps a silver lining could still be found. I’d made myself too vulnerable again, and the Nightmare had given me a due reminder to rebuild my defences. With the Inquisition’s growing influence, it was inevitable my trust would be abused someday. At least now I had the foresight to prepare for it.

A knock sounded at my door, and I glanced up. I didn’t even have a chance to respond when it creaked open and Josephine entered my quarters. She smiled.

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion,” she said, sauntering to my desk. “But you’ve been here all day and haven’t even come down for a meal. We were getting worried.”

“Oh, well this is just taking longer than I expected,” I said, turning back to the unfinished report. “I’ll be down later.”

“You said that to the courier I sent three hours ago, and the one three hours before that.” Josephine reached over and plucked the quill from my hand. “I doubt you will progress much further in your current mood. A short break will do no harm. Besides, I would appreciate your company for dinner.”

Her brown eyes were hopeful, and I hesitated. We often shared meals together, and I could no longer deny the hunger pangs I’d been ignoring all day. Yet now the thought left me uncomfortable. We’d been spending more time outside of meetings, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. And with everything else on my mind…

“I appreciate the offer, but I really should finish this report,” I said at last. “Perhaps another time.”

Josephine’s gaze fell. It barely lasted a second, though, and she sat on my desk, her brow raised.

“Are you certain you are alright?” she asked. “You’ve not quite been yourself since you returned from Adamant. Did anything…”

“I’m absolutely fine,” I cut her off. I would not let the cracks show. “Look, it was a tiring fight, and it won’t be the last. If anything I remember can give us an advantage, it will be worth it. I’ll be down when it’s done.”

Josephine frowned.

“With all due respect, Inquisitor,” she began, “I think you are not doing yourself any favours.” Her voice softened. “If you need to talk about what happened, or anything…”

“With all due respect, _ambassador_ , I’m sure you have better things to do with your time.” My voice was curt. “So don’t wait on me.”

I snatched the quill from her and sat back in my chair. Josephine’s gaze never left me, her eyes betraying her feelings. Swallowing, I pushed away my guilt, making myself start writing again. She might have truly worried over my welfare, but I didn’t need her concern. It was only something she could use against me later.

Josephine muttered a farewell, before she straightened her dress and strode out. She closed the door harder than she needed, and the bang echoed in my ears. I gritted my teeth, and the quill snapped again.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

 

“Inquisitor?”

I opened my eyes. Dawn had barely broken, and I was sitting on a bench in the Skyhold garden. I’d come down here in the early hours, hoping to clear my overfilled mind, but I must’ve just dozed off. Someone had also found the courtesy to give me a blanket, which I was glad for. The nights were cold here. Pushing the fabric aside, I yawned and glanced to my right. A hooded messenger was hovering; one of Leliana’s agents. He clasped his hands and bowed.

“Sorry to disturb you, but Sister Leliana wishes to speak with you urgently,” he said.

I nodded, fighting back another yawn. It must have been important if she would summon me so early.

“Alright, I’ll go see her,” I said. “Thank you.”

The messenger nodded, then hurried off. I watched him leave, before rubbing my eyes. I would do well to freshen up first. After a brief stretch, I gathered the blanket and rose to my feet. I headed back to my quarters, the distant chatter growing louder as the residents of Skyhold began to awaken. My path took me past the tavern, and the scent from the kitchens made my stomach rumble. Unable to resist, I made a quick stop and grabbed a piece of fresh bread. The cook remained busy, so I managed to slip out before she noticed. I sighed, chewing on the warm crust. If only I could be as free from scrutiny during the rest of the day.

Finally I returned to my quarters. A quick wash and change of clothes later, and I headed straight to the library tower. I knew better than to keep Leliana waiting.

The library was far from empty. I caught Dorian poking around the shelves, his arms filled with tomes. I was surprised he was here this early, but he’d become very obsessed with his research since learning about our adventure in the Fade. He called a greeting, and I nodded back. Fortunately he was much too pre-occupied to stir up conversation, so I ventured onward to the stairs.

The cawing echoed throughout the tower, and I tried not to flinch as a crow fluttered overhead. I’d never been a big fan of the birds, although they weren’t nearly as terrifying as spiders. Leliana was kneeling before a statue of Andraste, murmuring her morning prayers. I waited, letting her finish, and somewhat jealous she could still retain her faith. Whatever was left of mine remained in the Fade.

Eventually the final words left her lips, and she brought her hands to her forehead. Then she rose, and turned to face me.

“Ah, I didn’t expect you so quickly.” She gestured to her table. I followed her, and she sat down and crossed her legs. “But I do appreciate your promptness.”

“No problem,” I said, leaning on the railing that overlooked the staircase. “So what troubles you?”

Leliana was silent for a moment. Then she looked straight at me, with a gaze like frozen steel.

“Josephine was a little upset last night.” She spoke carefully, studying my reaction. “She’s been concerned about you.”

“Oh?”

“She’s not the only one.” Leliana’s voice was measured. “Even Cassandra has mentioned a few worries. I simply wanted to hear your side of the story.”

“My side? Of what?”

“Tell me what happened at Adamant,” Leliana said. “Or rather, what happened in the Fade. I understand you learnt of what happened to Divine Justinia, but there must have been something else. You’ve not really spoken much about it, and all of us have seen a change in you.”

I hesitated. It had only been a week since the fall of the fortress; my companions must have been watching closer than I realised. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. Leliana would instantly pick up any lie, and I couldn’t just brush off her question. But I would not share that final memory the Nightmare had returned. It was none of their business.

If this was how she wanted to play, however…

“The Nightmare demon thrived on instilling fear,” I said. “As I was escaping through the rift, it tried to intimidate me one last time. It just left me very drained.”

Leliana gave a slow nod. “So you don’t feel any different otherwise? You weren’t set upon by spirits?”

I blinked, taken aback by her directness, when it suddenly clicked. I wanted to roll my eyes. Maker’s breath, would they really believe that I’d been…

“I’ve not been possessed, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said.

“That’s not exactly what I was after,” Leliana replied, “but thank you for the reassurance, nonetheless.” She stood up and began pacing. “You have been retreating from us, Inquisitor. It takes no fortune-teller to see that your newfound memories have shaken you.” For a moment her gaze softened, and her grey-blue eyes sparkled. “If you feel we blame you for the Divine’s death, or for the hundreds who perished in the Conclave, then please absolve yourself of that notion. You are not responsible for Corypheus’s ambition.”

I gave a nod, thankful she’d given me a ready-made excuse. Yet this would only give a temporary reprieve, and I was certain Leliana knew more than she was letting on. I wondered what Josephine had told her.

“There is just one further issue outstanding,” Leliana added. She stopped pacing, and rested her hands on the table. That frosty gaze returned, and she leant forward, her eyes narrowed. “I appreciate you have been under a great deal of stress, but if you ever speak that way to Josephine again, you will have to answer to _me_.”

I raised a brow, not expecting such a shift in tone.

“Is that a threat, spymaster?”

“Don’t play the fool Inquisitor,” Leliana answered. “I have seen how close the two of you have become. At least things appeared to be heading in such direction, until now.” Her voice hardened. “I do not approve of my dearest friend being toyed with.”

I stared back at her, silent. So, this what was the real fuss was about. A part of me winced—I _had_ spoken to Josephine too harshly—but I quickly closed that side off. I couldn’t let things go further. This was the only way I could survive, and it was time I made them realise as well.

“You seem to be mistaken,” I said firmly. “I had no intention of misleading you or Josephine, so let me be perfectly clear.” I paused, renewing my resolve. “There was never anything between us, and there never will be. She is an advisor and trusted colleague, as are you. So, whatever subtext you are trying to imply doesn’t exist. I hope that satisfies you, _spymaster_.”

Leliana blinked, surprised, but whatever retort was on her lips was interrupted by a soft gasp. We both looked to the staircase, and my eyes widened. Josephine had appeared, and her expression told me she’d heard most of the exchange. The pang in my chest deepened, but before it gnawed further I turned and descended the staircase. Still I could not escape the hurt look in the ambassador’s eyes, so I walked faster. Maker’s breath, why had this become so difficult? I used to be able to severe ties with the precision of an assassin. And they never lingered in my mind like this. Why should she be any different?

I didn’t stop walking until I was in the courtyard. My arms were shaking, and I licked my lips, standing in the shade of the tavern’s east wall. Now regret was starting to set in, and I held my temple. Josephine had done nothing wrong; she didn’t deserve this. I didn’t need to be so cruel.

 _But neither did Kianna_ , a nasty voice echoed in my thoughts. I shook my head, clasping my eyes shut. Such guilt was only a weakness; a path that allowed others to weave their way inside my heart so they could tear it to shreds. I could not—no, _would not_ withstand that a second time. I couldn’t let my guard down for anyone. Never again, never again…

A sudden metallic rattle broke my thoughts, and I looked up, only to dive aside as a bucket of water plummeted towards me. Fortunately it missed, splashing my ankles, and I scowled. A disgruntled snort came from the tavern rooftop, and I caught a flash of blonde hair.

“Damn it, I almost had you!” Sera’s head poked out above the rafters. She didn’t linger and swung down the steep wall, landing just before me. She dusted herself off, looking annoyed.

“What in the Maker’s name was that for?” I asked, more bemused than angry.

“To wash that gunky Fade shit out of your head, that’s what, yeah,” Sera proclaimed. “Would’ve worked too, if you hadn’t moved.”

“I don’t generally appreciate being soaked to the skin for no reason,” I shot back.

“I just told you the reason, yeah?” Sera rolled her eyes, resting her hands on her hips. “You’ve been all mopey-face since you got back and it’s doing my head in. I can’t function when you’re like this.”

“Well, sorry for not getting over what happened soon enough for you,” I huffed. “Why should it bother you, anyway?”

“Oh, don’t make this about me,” Sera retorted. “It’s all _you_ , mate, and the sooner you realise you need to bloody well _let go_ already, then things can get back to normal, yeah. _I_ can get back to normal.” She kicked the bucket aside. “Better clean that head of yours out, or I’ll bring the heavy stuff next time.”

She skulked away. My brow twitched, and I had to fight the temptation to throw the bucket at her. _How_ _dare she…How dare she have the gall to say that to my face!_ She had no idea what Kianna had done to me, why I’d been so careful until the day the Nightmare found its way into my merciless dreams and took the memory away. Now I’d foolishly let myself fall too deep, and if I didn’t fix the mess I’d dug myself into…

I stopped pacing, realising that others had started watching me. My face flushed, and I drew my collar higher, hoping to retain some dignity as I stormed back into the main keep. My anger was short-lived, however, and by the time I entered my quarters my trembling had returned. I slumped onto my bed, my head in my hands. Sera might’ve thought an easy resolution within reach, but I could see no way out. My feelings were twisting me apart, and I was utterly stranded.

Tears prickled behind my eyes, and I urged them not to fall. The friendships I’d forged since surviving the Conclave; had they suddenly become meaningless now? Every victory, every loss, every laugh, every grievance…

And yet it had been exactly the same with Kianna. Such shared moments were no reliable indicator of loyalty. They’d only let me live because they needed me. Because of this damned mark on my hand; a mark that was the result of pure accident, not the divine providence exaggerated to the point of myth. A myth that let them _use me however they wished_.

I shook my head. I’d been too naïve. All along I’d been merely a tool to them; a weapon to fend off the darkness they so greatly feared.

And if they had never truly cared for me, then I would show them the same courtesy.


	4. The Ties That Bind

The skies were beginning to darken, and I let my eyes close briefly. I’d not left my quarters for most of the day, but writing in such dim light was starting to give me a headache. Letting out a breath, I dropped my quill and stood up. After a brief stretch, I sauntered to the balcony, savouring the cool air. Thick mist hugged the higher peaks, although it was clear enough to admire the setting sun. The sight gave me peace for a moment, but then my eyes drifted back to the Skyhold courtyard.

I sighed. It had been almost two weeks since my exchange with Leliana, but try as I might, it wasn’t as easy to avoid the others as I’d hoped. I couldn’t shirk from every conversation, and Solas and Blackwall were starting to think I was hiding something. I’d deflected their concerns so far, but it was only a matter of time before their suspicions would grow. That could lead to dangerous rumours, and having more eyes on me was the last thing I wanted.

Surprisingly, Josephine had not confronted me again, although she’d opted for a more indirect approach. Throughout the week I’d been brought packages of food, along with more and more missives that needed my attention. By now I’d collected so many I simply couldn’t deal with them. No doubt she was certain I’d eventually crack and call a meeting. As I glanced to the pile of unread scrolls, I had to admit it was a well-thought out strategy. Sooner or later I’d need to push our plans against Corypheus forward, and I had no magi studies to hide behind this time.

Cawing caught my ear, and I looked to the rookery. A pair of crows flew out, and I traced their path across the evening sky. They kept together initially, before they split and took separate courses above the valley. The irony wasn’t lost on me, and I turned away. I was doing myself no favours by avoiding the inevitable, but perhaps there was a way around it. I needed to show I could act for the Inquisition independently. If I could prove I could work alone, there would be no need to involve everyone else in my affairs. There’d be no favours owed, and no-one forced to face danger for my sake.

No reason for any of them to remain close to me.

The idea continued to flourish, and I walked back to my chamber, smiling for the first time in days. Yes, this would solve everything. They’d chosen me to lead the Inquisition, so I would do it by example. I’d become the myth they’d created; untouchable and unobtainable. A true Herald who would not be burdened by suffocating bonds of false loyalty.

I’d transcend them all.

* * *

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Cullen’s face soured as he stared at the map. “I know it’s a familiar area in Crestwood, but if something happened to you…”

“It’s hardly a taxing task,” I said, tapping my finger over the region in question. “We already have an outpost at Caer Bronach, so I’ll have plenty of support if I need it. There’s no point wasting resources when only a single rift needs closing.”

“Bravado does not become you, Inquisitor,” Josephine said. She had been watching me carefully, but her expression revealed nothing of her thoughts. “Even if you’ve become adept at sealing rifts, there is no need to change your strategy.”

“Even if it’s for the better?” I challenged. “Cullen’s troops need aid in the Dales, so you can send Blackwall and Cassandra to support them. Meanwhile Varric can continue his investigation into the red lyrium leak and Dorian and Solas can finish up their research.”

“What are you trying to prove, Inquisitor?” Leliana abruptly spoke up. She’d been unusually quiet for most of the discussion, observing even more closely than Josephine. “Why suddenly do you wish to deal with rifts alone?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is there a new power you want to test away from prying eyes?”

It took all my willpower not to wince. Maker, she certainly had a gift for assuming the worst.

“If that was the case, then why would I bring this up with you all first?” I stated, not deterred. “I’m not naïve enough to think your scouts will turn a blind eye either, Leliana. I just want to make better use of our resources when we are so thinly stretched. Besides, if the rift proves too much to deal with, I will not take foolish chances.”

The three glanced at each other, uneasy.

“Well, if you’re absolutely insistent…” Cullen shrugged. “I’ll have some extra troops stationed at Caer Bronach, just in case. And you _will_ withdraw if at any point it becomes too much to handle.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Then you have my agreement as well,” Josephine said, almost too willingly. Leliana flashed her a sidelong glance, before sighing.

“Alright. My scouts will also be available, should you need them,” she conceded. “Take extra care, and Maker be with you.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Josephine and Cullen nodded, before they departed. I made to leave as well, when Leliana grabbed my hand.

“Inquisitor, a moment,” she said.

I tensed. “Yes?”

Leliana’s gaze softened slightly.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” she said. “Just remember, regret is a terrible thing to harbour. Don’t feel you have to atone for what was beyond your control.”

She released me and walked away.

* * *

 

It was raining heavily as I trekked across the soaking grassland. The scent of wet earth was rich, and I constantly shook rainwater from my hood. According to the Crestwood scouts, a new rift had appeared within the old village ruins. It was much smaller than the one that had engulfed the lake, but it was causing problems. They weren’t particularly keen about me going alone, but even they wouldn’t disobey a direct order from the Inquisitor. Still, I knew I had to make this work, otherwise I wouldn’t be given another chance.

The walk was quiet, almost surreal as I’d become so used to the banter of my companions. Whether it was Iron Bull’s delight at slaying powerful foes, Dorian’s playful teasing, Varric’s quips against Cassandra, or Solas’s patient answers to Cole’s questions. Part of me despised the silence, and it took conscious effort to suppress the feeling. Maker, I’d let myself fall a long way. This was yet another thing I’d have to get used to.

Eventually I came to the crumbling houses. They were little more than scattered walls and soiled foundations. I raised a hand to my eyes, scanning the area. It was sad to think that all this destruction had been caused on purpose. Perhaps then it was no surprise that a rift had formed, given the numbers that had died in a single place.

Thunder roared above, and I drew my hood closer. Still the rain lashed into my eyes, and the drops trickled down my face and neck. It was supposed to be early afternoon, but the clouds made it as dark as night. Nonetheless, as I walked through the downpour, I suddenly caught a familiar green glow from the north. It was coming from the old Chantry building.

I changed course, heading towards the ruin. It listed badly to one side, its foundations swallowed by the mud, and only one stained glass window remained intact. As I neared, my left hand began to tingle. I was definitely heading in the right direction. The ground sloped downward, and water swirled towards my ankles. I swallowed, bringing my staff to hand. It shouldn’t be much further.

I stopped before the building, examining it. Part of the rear wall had come apart, leading into the main hall. Inside the rift hovered, casting its green light onto the rotting pews and tarnished statues. I licked my lips, clenching my left hand. The space was more enclosed than I liked, but if I maintained my distance I would be alright.

The rift shuddered, reacting to my presence. I raised my staff, awaiting the first wave. A surge of green light erupted, and a roar of flame hailed a pair of Rage demons. They shook themselves free of the ground, hissing. I didn’t hesitate and flung out my staff, icicles flying from the tip. They ripped through the air, striking the closest demon in the chest. It screeched, and a further blast of ice froze it in place. One lightning spell later, and it shattered into crystals. The other demon bawled, clawing towards me. I jumped back, drawing it into the rain, and swiftly it met the same fate.

As it disappeared, the rift flickered. I drew a breath, another peal of thunder ringing above. Then the air turned cold, and three Despair demons burst forth. Their shrieks echoed through the ruin, and I dodged the spears of ice that shot from their fingertips. I readied a flame rune, but they were too agile, flitting from corner to corner. Cursing, I changed tact, aiming a blast of flame towards the first. It howled in pain, and its comrades retaliated. I avoided the first wave of cold, but the second struck my side. I yelped, my skin turning numb and frost forming on my gauntlet.

 _You cannot hope to win_.

I scowled, surveying the remaining demons. The pair had regrouped, taking refuge between the pews beneath the rift. I gritted my teeth, conjuring the fire rune once more. I’d wipe them out with a single blow.

 _You are all alone, Inquisitor._ Their voices were taunting. _Because you are weak. You are so easily betrayed because you are worthless._

“Shut up!” I hollered, throwing out the rune. The Despair demons chittered, splitting apart and avoiding the attack. They responded in kind, and I cried out, dropping to my knees. I grasped my arm, which was slowly starting to become encased in ice. No, I couldn’t…

 _No-one will care_ , the voices continued. _You will perish alone, forgotten. You feared them and kept them away, but they never would have come for you anyway. You are nothing._

“Get away from her!”

A new voice broke through, and the Despair demons shrieked. A blur of grey and white shot past, striking them down. They writhed, trying to defend themselves, but Cassandra’s blade was merciless. They fell, and she called out again.

“Inquisitor, the rift, seal it!”

Dispelling my stupor, I raised my left hand, reaching for the energies of the Fade. The power entangled with my mark, fierce and chaotic. Once they were aligned, I brought them together. The rift pulsed, then finally shattered, leaving us in the pouring rain.

Cassandra sheathed her sword. She walked over, offering her hand. I ignored it, rising to my feet by myself. It did not go unnoticed.

“What in the Maker’s name are you doing here?” I blurted.

“I should ask the same of you!” Cassandra shot back, her eyes narrowed. “What madness consumed you to come out here alone? Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving Skyhold?”

“I’d told my advisors, I assumed they would let you know!” I snapped. “I don’t need you here. Cullen said his men were struggling in the Dales, so I...”

“I am fully aware of our commander’s needs,” Cassandra broke in, “and none of them concern me.” Her eyes blazed, but I could still read the hurt in them. “What in Andraste’s name has come over you, Inquisitor? Do you feel so burdened by the truth that you seek to forfeit your life as atonement?” She shook her head. “This is not you! I refuse to believe the revelations from Adamant have...”

A groan severed the rest of her words, and we looked to the Chantry hall. The rubble shuddered, the mud shifting, and finally the pews splintered. A huge scaled head emerged, and it let out a roar, dragging the rest of its body free. I swore, the drake tearing through the stones as if they were silk. It must’ve been using the ruin as its lair before the rift appeared.

“Get back!” I shouted, retreating.

“How in the Maker’s name was it not disturbed earlier?!” Cassandra raised her shield, bringing her blade forth again. “Never mind, just get clear!”

I sprinted into the rain, not caring that my hood flopped open. Rain soaked into my shirt, but I ignored it, spinning around to face the beast. Cassandra yelled, slashing at its hindleg, and the drake groaned. In retaliation it swept its tail, smashing the house beside me. I cursed, running aside to avoid the debris. Almost straight into the path of the drake’s jaws.

“Inquisitor!”

Cassandra tackled me to the ground, exposing her side, and the drake lunged. It found its mark, and Cassandra screamed. We both hit the mud, hard. I gasped, the wind knocked from my lungs, while Cassandra lay beside me, trembling. Dark patches of blood spread beneath her armour, and mixed with the sodden ground. The drake shrieked, its fangs eager for more.

Eyes wide, I forced myself upright. The spell had already left my lips, and my left hand shot out. A ripple ran through the air, and a web of green appeared. The drake bawled, trapped and unable to withstand the rift forces. I curled my fingers closer, and it scales cracked, seeping blackened blood. Finally it was too much, and the beast’s body tore apart. Gurgling, the beast collapsed onto its side, lifeless.

Breathing hard, I turned back to Cassandra. Rift magic always took too much from me, but I’d had no choice. The rain plastered her hair to her forehead, and her breaths came in shallow gasps. I fumbled at her armour straps, my arms shaking with both fear and anger.

_You stupid, stupid Seeker!_

“Idiot.” I pressed my hand against the puncture marks, drawing on whatever mana I had left. The bleeding slowly calmed, but it would not be enough. I had to get her to the keep, quickly, or she would…she could…

“Look…who’s…talking,” Cassandra whispered, by some miracle still conscious.

Angry tears began to fall, concealed by the rain.

“I didn’t ask for this,” I spat bitterly. “I didn’t ask you to protect me!”

_I didn’t ask to be made to feel like this again!_

Cassandra let out a chuckle. “Who said...I needed permission...to save my friend?” Her eyes began to close. “It was never…your choice…”

At last she slipped into unconsciousness, although her breathing had eased somewhat. I clenched my teeth, turning her around so I could drape her arm around my shoulders. She shouldn’t have followed me; I should’ve realised sooner.

How had I become so careless?

* * *

 

“Inquisitor, explain yourself!”

Leliana stormed into the infirmary camp, her eyes hot with fury. Within moments she was upon me, and she grabbed my collar.

“Sister Leliana, please!” the healer cried. “The Inquisitor is not without her own injuries!” She attempted to intervene, but Leliana ignored her, dragging me to my feet. I winced.

“What in the Maker’s name happened out there?” Leliana demanded. “You said it was just a rift!”

“It was!” Despite my aching hand, I snatched her wrists and pushed her away. “I would’ve been fine, but then a drake attacked, Cassandra…”

I didn’t get a chance to finish, as Leliana’s fist cracked against my face. Blood soured my lip, and she raised her arm, reading to strike again. However, the second blow never came.

“That’s _enough_!” Josephine shouted. She pushed Leliana aside, and I held my bloody nose. The ambassador must’ve followed her. Leliana hissed, her grey-blue eyes keener than knives. “That was completely uncalled for, Leliana! Why did you strike the Inquisitor?”

“Why do you side with her, after what she said about you?!” Leliana barked. “Look at what she’s become! She’s lost all regard for us, for the ones _who risk their lives_ for her!” She gestured to the farthest camp bed. “Cassandra lies there, almost dead, while she…”

“That is not true!” Josephine shot back. “Our Inquisitor risked life and limb to heal Cassandra and bring her back. And Cassandra followed of her own choice; you cannot absolve her of all responsibility! If not for the Inquisitor then…”

“Then none of this would have happened!” Leliana snapped. For a moment her eyes glistened, and she looked straight at me. “Do you see what your selfishness has cost? Cassandra deserves better. We _all_ deserve better!”

Her words struck close, but I didn’t acknowledge her. Josephine continued to shoot daggers at her, before she took my arm.

“It may be best if you retire for the moment,” she said gently. “I will speak further with Leliana.”

I gritted my teeth. Why did she still act so concerned, even after what I’d said? Had I not been blunt enough?

“Don’t waste your breath.” I shook free of her hold and walked off, healing myself. I didn’t look back, heading straight for my quarters. I could accept Leliana’s anger, but Josephine…I shook my head. She should be just as fuming, if not more so.

And Cassandra…

I paused on the keep steps, holding my temple. That foolish, foolish Seeker. Did she realise what she’d done? All blame for her current state now fell on my shoulders, despite the fact I never wanted her to get involved. She should’ve let me face the consequences, not protected me at the last second like a helpless child.

If she had _just kept her distance like she was supposed to…_

The thought continued to fester as I strode into the main keep. However, I didn’t head towards my quarters. Instead I turned and pushed open the door to the library. If I tried to hide in my room, it would only be a matter of time before I’d be summoned. I’d have a better chance to be left alone if they had to work to find me.

Thankfully, the library was mostly empty. I made my way to one of the reading rooms and sat down, resting my elbows on my knees. Anger and guilt wrestled within me, and I closed my eyes. Why should I have to feel like this? I’d told them to stay away, yet it wasn’t enough. The more I tried to push the others back, the closer they tried to swarm.

What would it take to…

Heavy steps stormed nearby, and I looked up. The door was partly closed, but I still caught a flash of a lilac hood, along with a disgruntled snort.

“You should not have caused such a display outside.” Josephine’s voice was curt. “And you had no right to hit her. There were other ways to voice your grievance!”

“What other way did I have, Josephine?” Leliana spat. “I’ve tried to speak with her, to offer her a chance to share her burdens, but she refuses. And I can’t understand why _you_ seem so unshaken. Does Cassandra’s condition not worry you? Did you not hear what the Inquisitor said to me that day?”

“Of course I am worried,” Josephine said, “but the Inquisitor’s words and Cassandra’s health are not the only issues here.” She sighed. “I know what is really bothering you, and you are letting it get the better of you.”

Leliana scoffed. “Someone needs to the voice of the dissent, Josephine. I will not excuse the Inquisitor for how she has been treating us recently. I act like this because she needs to be reminded of her path. If she is to lead us, then she needs to trust us.”

“But you also act like this because she reminds you of yourself,” Josephine said. “You know perfectly well what she is becoming, and it enrages you because you do not want her to take the same path as you.”

Leliana’s eyes widened. “That’s...That’s not...”

“Your time with the late Divine took its toll,” Josephine said softly. “You were forced to leave the one you loved, and you had to face so much alone. It wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry I was not there to help, as I should have been. But getting angry with the Inquisitor will not save her.” She touched Leliana’s shoulder. “I promise I will not let her become the reflection of you that holds so much mistrust. And perhaps one day, you will let me do the same for you.”

Leliana had no response to that. Instead she huffed and retreated to the rookery. Josephine watched her go, before she shook her head and descended the library stairs. I remained in the reading room, reflecting on their exchange. Yet still I couldn’t understand their intentions. Why were they so adamant to change me? What was wrong with being cautious, with wanting to protect myself from further pain? And I most certainly didn’t need _saving_.

_Why was it so hard for them to leave me be?_

I let my head sink into my hands. This was too much. I could fight no more. It was far too late to undo the ties that now had me trapped. There was only one option left; the only way I could stop myself unravelling.

I had to find Cole.


	5. A Memory Tethered

I kept my head down until the late evening, sulking in the gardens. Already rumours of ‘the spymaster’s assault on the Inquisitor’ were spreading, but Mother Giselle wouldn’t let it continue unchecked. I was grateful she kept the curious questions at bay, since I really didn’t want to fuel the scandal. Besides, I was in no denial that it had been well deserved. I’d been too careless, and had sorely underestimated the willpower of those who called me ‘friend’. Nonetheless, right now I wanted to be left alone, so I could find the courage to seek Cole and put an end to this.

My eyes turned skyward, watching the stars emerge. The moon was low, bathing the ramparts in pale blue, and I let out a breath. If only it could wash away the feelings within me as well. My strategies to keep myself aloof—once so assuring—had failed, and I was in an even worse position than before. My guilt was suffocating, my every thought so paralysed with fear that I didn’t know what to do. Cassandra’s wounds, Leliana’s anger, Josephine’s worry; they were like lead weights in my chest, snares around my heart that couldn’t be snapped. No matter what I said or how I acted, they continued to believe I was worth their efforts, even though I knew otherwise.

But with Kianna always at the back of my mind, things couldn’t go back to the way they were. I couldn’t accept that my companions thought of me as more than just their leader. At the same time, I couldn’t deny what was in front of me. Cassandra had followed me out of her own concern, not through an order. Leliana had wanted to knock sense into me, desperate I didn’t become as distant and jaded as she. And Josephine’s compassion had never wavered, not for an instant believing the words I’d meant to hurt.

 _Only for now_ , a voice echoed in my head. _Maybe for today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, but one day it will end. One day someone more valuable will take your place, and you’ll be left alone again._

I held my chest, unable to stop the spreading ache. I couldn’t take the risk; couldn’t allow myself to believe I was worth caring about. It was utterly, utterly unthinkable. How could I, when the very thought made my breathing shallow and chest burn and…

My breaths turned to short gasps, the pressure on my chest unbearable. Sweat began to pool in my palms, and my heart thundered into overtime. My vision blurred, and I felt like I was going to be sick. No, I couldn’t let them, _I couldn’t let anyone_ … _not again, never again_!

“Inquisitor.” A soothing voice called out, and a hand touched my shoulder. Mother Giselle. “It’s alright, I am here. Count your breaths.”

Despite myself, I forced out all the air in my lungs, fighting the temptation to just keep inhaling. Slowly I started to count. My pulse rumbled, so I gripped the bench as well, concentrating on the smooth wood beneath my fingers. One, two, three…

At twenty-seven breaths, the terrible dread began to pass. My shaking calmed, and eventually I returned to the present. I blinked, the gardens coming into focus. Mother Giselle was beside me, her brow raised. I sat there for a moment, composing myself.

“I’m…I’m alright,” I said at last, wiping my forehead. “Sorry.”

“There is no need to apologise,” Mother Giselle said. “A great burden lies upon your heart, and I can see it is overwhelming you.” She sighed. “I heard about what happened with Seeker Pentaghast, and I’m sorry. It must not be easy. Is there anything I can…”

“No.” I didn’t let her finished and stood up. “I…I will deal with it. It is my burden after all. But thank you all the same.”

I strode back to the main courtyard, feeling her eyes upon me the entire way. I swallowed back my guilt. I hadn’t wanted to speak so dismissively, but it had to be this way. Mother Giselle had seen me at my most vulnerable, and I didn’t want that repeated. She didn’t need to get involved. I had enough trouble from the others already.

The night air was cold against my skin, and I shivered. I couldn’t believe I’d become so fragile; always a hair’s breadth from falling apart. I could bear this no longer. My anxiety was consuming me, and if I didn’t deal with it, I’d not be fit to lead anything. My only hope lay in erasing the memory that had reduced me to this mess. If Kianna were once again wiped from my mind, I could break free of her hold. I shouldn’t have let it come to this, but I’d proven too weak to confront it, even after all these years.

I needed to be rid of her for good.

A yawn escaped me, and I climbed the steps to the southern ramparts. Most of the ways were empty at this hour, the people gathered in the tavern or tucked away in their bunks. The quiet was comforting, and I let my eyes close briefly. Such moments were hard to come by, and were thus worth savouring. Nonetheless, I couldn’t dwell on the calm for long. I didn’t want to give the others a chance to interfere.

I brushed back my hair, focusing on the south tower. Cole enjoyed lingering in the attic there, when he wasn’t seeking people to comfort. I’d watched him do it many times, and it still amazed me. As a spirit of compassion, he had the power to make people forget. Unlike the Nightmare, who used such memories to further its strength, Cole merely gained satisfaction from giving others peace. It fulfilled his purpose, after all.

And if he could serve mine, the entire Inquisition would be the better for it.

The oak door creaked as I pushed it ajar, and I was assaulted by the musty scent of old wood. The attic was almost pitch-black, but light from the upper floor of the tavern gave some sense of direction. Alas, the attic was empty. Cole was not here. My heart sank. I didn’t want to go looking for him, not when I might run into the others. But to leave it for the morning was not an option. I wouldn’t stand a single night more of this, and I’d have plenty else to keep me busy tomorrow.

Laughter broke from the tavern, and I caught Iron Bull and Varric’s shouts. Dorian and Blackwall soon joined them, and I bit back the hollow ache within. At least they’d had the sense to leave me alone, although for how long was anyone’s guess. I’d seen their reaction when I’d brought Cassandra back, and could only imagine what hushed exchanges had gone on. No doubt a confrontation with them awaited on the dawn as well.

Sighing, I retreated outside and gazed across the fortress. I’d worry what the next day would bring later; first I needed to find Cole. Unfortunately he could’ve ventured anywhere, so I couldn’t really narrow my search field. However, he often preferred to stalk the ramparts, so perhaps it would be best to start amongst the parapets.

A chill wind carried across the air, and I drew my jacket closer. The skies were cloudless, and brimming with stars. There would be a frost tonight. I glanced ahead, looking to the eastern tower. Aside from a few patrol guards, I could only pick out empty shadows and stone. I cursed, kicking the ground. Damn it, Cole! Where had he gone? He had no reason to wander around so late, not when there was hardly anyone who needed…

“Inquisitor?”

I almost jumped out of my skin. Heart racing, I spun around, only to see Cullen right behind me. He was holding a scroll in his hand, no doubt returning to his quarters. His eyes filled with concern, and I fought the urge to scowl. I didn’t need his pity.

“What do you want?” My voice was brusque.

Cullen’s eyes narrowed.

“I was merely going to ask after your well-being, given what happened at Crestwood,” he said gruffly. “Will you deny us even that now?”

I let out a breath. I deserved that.

“No,” I said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean…”

Cullen’s gaze relaxed.

“It’s alright,” he replied, his tone brightening. “I understand you’re under a lot of pressure right now. It’s a lot for anyone to bear.” He looked up at the starry sky. “Come to clear your head, I suppose?”

“You could say that,” I said, my pulse starting to race again. No, I had to keep it under control.

“Cassandra is doing well,” Cullen went on, ignorant of my discomfort. “She was back on her feet this evening, much against the healer’s advice, but she was adamant to scold Leliana for hitting you.” He paused. “Even I agree that was too much. But Leliana can get…passionate about such things. We just worry about you, is all.”

“I know. But there’s no need.” By now my breathing was starting to falter, so I turned to leave. Cullen, however, strode forward, blocking my path. I gritted my teeth. Maker, not now…you can’t see me like this…

“Inquisitor, please don’t do this to yourself.” His voice was soft. “I know what it’s like to lose all faith and think nothing you’ve done has worth anymore. But you mustn’t believe it. No-one can take away what you’ve achieved, no matter the truth behind where your mark came from. Don’t feel you have to prove yourself. We believe in you just as much now as we did before.”

I could only nod, afraid to trust my voice. It was enough to satisfy the commander, who stepped aside and let me pass. I clenched my fists, desperate not to let another panic attack take over. I only got as far as the east tower before that awful ache came back. I stepped inside, shutting the door, then braced myself against the wall. My trembling returned, and I clasped my face, fighting to control my breathing. If only it were as a simple as a case of lost faith.

My legs gave way, and I crumpled to the floor, my head in my knees. Tears streaked down my cheeks, and I wrapped my arms around myself. How could they still hold such confidence in me? How could they still trust so easily? It wasn’t fair; I didn’t deserve any of it.

I screwed my eyes closed, the tears burning. This scar on my soul ran too deep. Like an iron chain it dragged me down, cutting welts so painful I couldn’t breathe.

_I just wanted to stop hurting._

I sat in the quiet darkness for a long while, unmoving. Trying to get a hold of the raging torrent inside me. Far too soon, the door creaked, and footsteps approached. A hand touched my wrist, and I looked up.

“It’s alright, I heard you.” Cole was kneeling by my side, his eyes filled with sadness. He waited patiently as I took a breath, silencing my tears. I couldn’t wallow here all night. Finally I was able to stand again, and he rose with me. Together we walked back to the ramparts, and stopped above the courtyard. I leant against the stones, letting the cold numb the moisture on my cheeks.

“You have been in terrible pain since Adamant,” Cole spoke, his gaze searching. “It burns in you like a poisoned thorn, a wound old and forgotten, yet it runs deep as the ocean. I wish you had called me sooner.”

I couldn’t meet his eyes, too ashamed. “Can…Can you help me?”

“I will try,” Cole said.

He faced me, his stare piercing. I stood my ground, holding back the tremors that still threatened to take over. He raised his hand towards my forehead, and his eyes turned blank, seeing beyond. I steeled myself, waiting for the moment of relief, when I would at last be free of this nightmare. But the seconds turned to minutes, and nothing happened.

Abruptly Cole’s eyes snapped open, and he frowned.

“I…I can’t free it,” he whispered.

I stared at him. “What?”

“I can’t remove it,” Cole said. “It’s impossible.”

“What do you mean it’s impossible?!” I spluttered, my temper overcoming my despair. “I’ve seen you do it for so many others, it’s the reason for your existence!”

“I said I can’t,” Cole repeated. “I see many lights gathered in you, dazzling and brilliant, flashes of hope and sorrow dancing to untamed music. But they are chained together like a fisherman’s lines, fragile and intertwined. I can’t snap them all for the sake of one.”

“You’re lying!” I grabbed his collar. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to me? I can’t live like this again! You have to erase it!”

“I want to. I know how much it hurts. But…” Cole reached up, and he grasped my left wrist. “Like a ship in a violent storm, no matter how the winds howl and froth, not even the heavens themselves can snap a tether anchored so deeply.”

My eyes widened, and I stared at the mark on my hand. This couldn’t be…my _Anchor_? This accursed brand was tying Kianna’s memory to me?

“It’s not just your mark,” Cole went on. “It provides the grounding force, but not the tether itself. The memory is too much a part of you now, like a cut in the midst of healing. It has been left too long. If I try to take it away, it will reopen, and it may tear other memories with it.”

“But…” My voice quivered. “You…you have to…you don’t understand…”

“Inquisitor, what is the meaning of this?!”

Solas’s voice roared through the parapets, and I released Cole at once. The boy didn’t seem much distressed, but Solas’s eyes were aflame as he stormed between us. He cast a dark glare over me, before he turned to Cole. “Are you alright, my friend? Did she hurt you?”

“No, it is I who’ve hurt her more,” Cole answered. “I’ve failed her. Forgive me.”

He pulled his hat closer and slipped away. Solas blinked, staring after him, before he looked at me. I didn’t make eye contact.

“Inquisitor, what has become of you?” His tone was gentler. “You sought Cole, you asked him to use his power…” He reached for my hand, but I withdrew. “What did you want to forget?”

“None of your business,” I said coldly.

I didn’t wait for a response and left for the stairs, meaning to return to the main keep. As I descended, I caught Cole in the courtyard. He had paused beside a woman, who was sitting alone and looking forlornly at a man in the infirmary. Cole observed them for a moment, before he strode forward. His hand brushed the woman’s hair, and she blinked, as if awaking from a dream. In moments she stood up and walked straight over to the man. Her face was now animated, and they began to talk. Cole slid into the shadows and disappeared, as if he’d never been there.

I tore my eyes away, entering the keep and not stopping until I was in my quarters again. I slammed the door closed, before halting at the mirror at my bedside. My tears had returned, and they danced off the glass. The reflection filled me with sudden rage, and I smacked my fist into it. The mirror shattered, sending broken shards everywhere. Crimson coloured my knuckles, and I slumped to the floor, sobbing.

“Why for her?” I choked, cradling my hand to my chest. “Am I so worthless you couldn’t do it for me?”


	6. A Failed Resolution

My weary eyes stared at the pages on my lap. I must’ve re-read the same line over forty times, but I barely registered a single word. I was sitting in an older part of Skyhold; a small, dusty library behind the gardens that had yet to be restored. It was the only place I’d found respite. My other haunts were constantly watched, and this side was much less well known. At least here I wouldn’t be disturbed every few minutes, or worse, have to face the rest of my companions.

Each of them had approached throughout the week, voicing the same question, and I’d brushed them all aside. Cassandra had been particularly persistent, despite still struggling with her injuries. It had been hard enough to watch her limp, much less hear her claims that she didn’t hold me responsible. Again she’d demanded to know what was wrong, and my only answer had been to turn away in shame. Had the healer not caught up and demanded she return to have her wounds redressed, I might not have escaped at all. But this was becoming more and more difficult. Our progress against Corypheus had all but come to a stand-still, and the entire Inquisition was growing restless.

But when I simply couldn’t overcome that which lay within…

I slammed the book closed. Even without the mounting tension, every day was a hurdle, and my resolve was failing. To force orders from my lips, to concentrate on defence plans, even just to meet eyes with my advisors had become so draining, so intimidating. As well as that, sleep had turned into an endless nightmare. My dreams were filled with terrible visions and taunting voices, and neither would let me rest. I could not count the times I’d startled awake, drenched in sweat and fighting for breath, Kianna’s face always haunting.

Now I had no-where else to turn. Cole had been my only chance at freedom, and he’d cruelly dashed the last of my hope. Trapped between a past set in stone and a future I couldn’t face, all that was left was the painful, bitter truth. I was nothing. I was no Herald; a pathetic title that let me pretend I had purpose, had _worth_. I was just a pawn against Corypheus, as easily replaced as a tarnished blade. In fact, if not for this mark, I’d have been discarded long ago. Nobody truly cared for me, and why should they? I was a plaything to be thrown aside, whose feelings were irrelevant and meaningless. And I didn’t need any of them, either.

So why then did that thought still burn? How could I desire companionship so badly, then deny it in the same breath? It wasn’t as if I were a stranger to loneliness. It shouldn’t be like this.

Just what in Andraste’s name did I really want?

A shuffle from the wall caught my ear, and I snapped my head towards it. Maker, don’t tell me they’d found me already. Discarding the book, I rose from my cobwebbed seat and walked towards the source of the noise. As I came closer to where the cement had decayed, voices became apparent. They must have been next door, in the shrine of Andraste. I ran my hand down the wall, picking out a crevice, then knelt down, pressing my ear to it.

“This is getting out of hand.” Cassandra’s voice was stern. “She’s not deployed us on any further missions, nor has she spoken with me properly since the…incident.” She let out a sigh. “I am so very worried for her.”

“She’s not been herself since we came back from Adamant.” Varric added. “She’s been avoiding everyone like the Blight. And Solas told me she visited Cole last night, asking him to ‘help her forget’.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Not that anything came of it, but even so, something’s really gotten to her if she went that far.”

“She can’t still harbour guilt about the Divine’s death?” Cassandra was incredulous. “Trevelyan always seemed so sure of herself, so determined, yet all that appears to have disappeared. I never imagined anything would shatter her resolve like this.”

“What about Warden Alastair’s sacrifice?” Blackwall asked. “Although as you say, we’ve faced similar losses before, and she’s pulled through them alright.”

“I do not think that, or even the Divine’s sacrifice, would impact our Inquisitor so dramatically,” Josephine piped up. “The Nightmare clearly returned something else to her, something from her past that has sent her into this state.”

“A trauma,” Leliana said, catching onto her line of thought. “Perhaps a betrayal long forgotten, and now rudely awakened.” There was something in her voice that might have been empathy. “Yet even if that is the case, it’s no excuse to keep the truth from us. We can’t help if she doesn’t tell us what is wrong.”

“There must be something we can do!” Cullen was getting flustered. “I dislike seeing her so troubled. And she can’t keep hiding away forever.”

“Hmph, you’ve seen how well our actions have been received so far,” Leliana scoffed.

“Yes, because punching her in the face was sure to be a success,” Dorian said dryly.

“But the more we try to coax her, the further she withdraws!” Leliana argued.

“The rest of the Inquisition has noticed, too, and rumours are only going to stack up,” Cullen added. “We can’t let things continue as they are.”

“I completely agree,” Josephine said. “That is why I asked you all here, to pool for ideas on what to do.” There was a pause. “So, any offers? I have a few things in mind…”

I pulled away from the crevice, leaving them to their discussion. I wasn’t interested. Let them plot and plan; it would not work. Nothing they offered would tame my fears, and since it had come down to this, I’d choose loneliness over uncertainty. I had borne that familiar pain for so many years, had taught myself to accept its embrace well. If only these sparks of friendship hadn’t touched me, hadn’t made that bleak existence so unbearable that I could no longer submerge myself in it.

I would simply have to learn to endure again.

Sighing, I headed back to the shelves. As I made to replace my book, the one beside it slipped and clattered to the floor. Frowning, I scooped it up, when its title caught my eye. Curious, I opened it to the first page. It was a translated dwarven text, written by a guild called the ‘Shaperate’. That word stirred something, so I casually flicked through.

My eyes scanned the chapter headings, and that was when I finally remembered. It had been part of our history lessons back in the Circle. The Shaperate Guild was responsible for recording dwarven history via memories. And this particular book…

I swallowed, afraid to let my hope stir again.

I needed to show this to Dagna.

* * *

 

The undercroft was pleasantly cool and dark. I stepped through the narrow door, the roar of the rushing waterfall echoing ahead. Hints of spray flecked my cheeks, and I could taste the scent of burning coal. Harritt was standing over the forge, toiling away, while Dagna was at her table, studying a set of crystals. She soon spotted me, however, and waved.

“Hey there!” She abandoned her studies and walked to my side. “How’s it going, Inquisitor?”

“Not bad, I guess.” I managed to feign a smile. Dagna was always so absorbed in her work, she probably hadn’t caught on to recent events. At least that worked in my favour. “I found something you might be interested in.”

“Aw, you’re always giving me gifts,” Dagna chimed. “What is it this time? A fancy rune? Some enchanted relic?”

“Just this.” I handed the book over, and she took it eagerly. She twirled the tome between her hands, skimming the pages.

“Ah, I see, this is a Shaperate Guild text,” she said. “I’m surprised you found one on the surface.” She began to read through the chapter headings, and her eyes widened. “Wow, this is _old_ alright! Nice find. Anything you want me to do with it?”

“I just want to confirm something first,” I said. “If I recall correctly, the Shaperate Guild are responsible for recording memories, right?”

“Yup,” Dagna said. “Not the fanciest work, but one of the most important. I’m impressed you know so.”

“So if the Shaperate know how to record memories,” I went on, “is it a stretch to think they know how to remove them as well?” I gestured to the book. “That text seemed to say as much.”

Dagna chewed her lip.

“First I’ve heard of it,” she admitted. “Though I was in the Blacksmith Caste, so it’s not like I’m an expert in this area. But far as I know, the Shaperate set memories in lyrium. They don’t remove them, they just record them. If you’re telling me this book has other ideas, though…”

“Can you see if it can be done?”

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Dagna shrugged. “Let me give this a read, then I’ll see if I’ve got what I’ll need.”

She returned to her workbench, and started reading the book. It didn’t take her long to finish. Then she stood up, sifting through the crystals. I followed, watching as she looked from the book to her materials several times. Then she strode over to a chest and took out a small pouch and a vial of lyrium. She placed it amidst the crystals, satisfied.

“Well, you’re in luck,” she proclaimed. “It looks like I’ve got everything. Give me a few minutes and I’ll see what I can do.”

Nodding, I sat on a chest, my anticipation welling up. Dagna brought out some tools from a drawer, and then set to work. After almost an hour of meticulous measuring, carving, and constant reference to the book, she was finished. She dropped her tools, dusted her gloved hands, and then carefully picked up her handiwork. It was an ivory crystal, flecked with veins of lyrium.

“There we go.” She beckoned me forward. “So, this is a standard memory crystal, but with a couple of modifications. If what the book said is correct, it’ll record a memory and at the same time ‘blank out’ the original. So it won’t erase it entirely, but the person will find it harder to recall.”

I nodded.

“It only stores one memory though,” Dagna went on. She chuckled. “So don’t think you can use it to brainwash anyone.”

“That wasn’t my intent,” I said.

“The other catch is that they have to be willing to let go of it,” Dagna added, “otherwise the blanking effect doesn’t really work.”

“I see.” That was easy enough; I could not wait to be rid of it. “So how do I get it to work?”

“Just touch it with a drop of blood,” Dagna said, “and then picture the memory in question. The crystal will do the rest.”

“Thank you, Dagna.”

“No worries!”

I took the crystal, then headed out of the undercroft. Soon I was back in my quarters, studying the ivory relic. Glowing veins of lyrium ran up its sides, and I let out a breath. It was going to be hard to picture that memory again, but I’d endure it one more time if it meant I’d be rid of it forever. This _had_ to work.

The broken mirror shards remained on my bedside table, yet to be cleared, so I picked one up. Tensing, I pricked my thumb with it, letting the blood well into a drop. The veins on the crystal glowed, sensing power. I brushed my thumb across it, and then I was thrown into the halls of the Ostwick Circle. I gritted my teeth, forced to observe the events playing out, every conflicted emotion of joy and fear and betrayal surging through me. They swarmed, suffocating, and my breath caught in my throat, trapped. No, I can’t…let it stop… _stop it now_!

_“…you should be thankful I managed to find a use for you in the end!”_

A white-hot sensation burned my hand, and the world turned black.

* * *

 

“Inquisitor, wake up!”

Warm hands were at my shoulders, giving me a firm shake. The movement jolted the darkness, and my eyes began to open. I was on the floor, the crystal still between my fingers. My thumb was sore, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Tears blurred my vision, and I lay there for a moment, the dim realisation setting in. Maker, it wasn’t fair.

Why must all my attempts at freedom end in failure?

“Oh, thank the Maker!” The hands moved, helping me sit up. I wiped my eyes, catching the scent of wildflowers, and the room came into focus. Everything was saturated in darkness, and she was right beside me, her olive-skin and dark hair kissed with moonlight.

Josephine.

“What happened?” she asked, her eyes falling to my cut hand. “Are you hurt? I saw blood and…”

“I’m fine.” I withdrew from her hold and pulled myself upright. My legs were still a bit unsteady, so I promptly sat on my bed. I kept a hold of the crystal, fighting the urge to smash it against the wall. Kianna’s memory continued to burn inside, and my arm shook. Dagna had promised me it would work! Why was I to be denied once more?!

“I don’t believe you.” Josephine stood before me, arms folded. “Enough is enough, Inquisitor. We need to talk.”

Her face was intent, assertive. There was to be no argument.

Too bad for her.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I returned to my feet, meaning to leave, but Josephine took my arm.

“I am not going to take no for an answer.” Her fingers dug deep, almost painfully so. “This has gone on long enough. Come with me.”

I forcefully snatched my arm free, Josephine’s nails scraping my skin.

“Just leave me alone!” I spun on my heel and stormed out, before she’d try to collar me again. I could hear her steps right behind. She wasn’t going to be turned away this time.

I thrust open the doors to the main hall, almost breaking into a jog. However, as I approached the exit, Iron Bull came out of the shadows. He stepped right in front of me, his eye discerning. He must have been waiting.

“I think our Lady Ambassador said she wanted to speak with you,” he said in a low tone. “It’s a little rude to just walk out on her.”

Maker, not him as well.

“I’m within my right to decline an invitation for something I deem unnecessary,” I answered. “So please step aside.”

“Sorry Boss, this is one time I’m not going to obey a direct order,” Iron Bull said. “It’s for your own good.”

Something finally snapped inside, and my eyes flared.

“When will you all stop presuming you know what’s best for me?!” Hot anger took over, and sparks of rage formed at my fingertips. Iron Bull’s eye widened, and he clenched his fists.

“Listen Boss, there’s no need for that,” he said, taking a defensive stance.

“I quite agree.” Dorian’s voice broke through, and he too came forward. He held up his palms. “Inquisitor, just calm down. We only want to help…”

“Then you can all _help_ by leaving me alone!” I yelled. I didn’t wait for an answer and conjured a brilliant light spell. The three of them gasped, blinded, and I pelted out of the keep. However, as I jumped down the last step, something struck the back of my calf. I cried out, landing on my knees. Grimacing, I turned, spotting the arrow that had hit. It was more than just an arrow, however, as I felt my leg turning numb. I couldn’t move it.

“That’s quite enough, Inquisitor.” Leliana lowered her bow. “I will not let you run from this any longer.” She approached, and for a moment I swore she let her mask slip. “Can’t you see it’s only pushing your pain deeper, making it harder to master? This has to end, now.”

I didn’t answer, but her words were as piercing as the arrow in my leg. Her tone of voice, as if she knew what I’d been through…

“Inquisitor!” Josephine rushed down the steps, coming to my side. She threw Leliana a scowl. “Was this really necessary?”

Leliana simply shrugged. Josephine rolled her eyes. She beckoned with her hand, and Leliana removed something from her pouch. Josephine took it, before she looked to me again.

“This is the anti-toxin to the numbing agent,” she said. “But I will only administer it if you promise to stop hiding in the shadows and speak with me.” She rolled the glass between her fingers. “Do we have an agreement?”

I gave a defeated sigh. There was no-where to run now.

“Alright.”


	7. The Truth Without

With a nod, Josephine opened the vial and handed it over. I tipped the contents into my mouth, and within moments the feeling returned to my leg. Still, the wound would smart for a while. She carefully removed the arrow tip, which fortunately hadn’t penetrated far, and I closed the edges with a healing spell. She offered her hand, and I felt compelled to take it. Her touch had become softer again, but I didn’t let it linger.

Once I was back on my feet, Josephine led me towards the gardens. The others dispersed, and I was thankful that matters had not escalated further. Now my temper had calmed, my cheeks were flushed with shame at what I’d done. I’d let my fear morph into anger, and I had no excuse for coming so close to attacking my companions. I’d already felt myself slipping, and the failure with the crystal had been the last straw.

Still, even after all that had been said and done, it didn’t change how I felt. I didn’t deserve such concern, not after the way I’d been treating everyone. And no matter how much I wanted to believe, it could never combat the painful reality. Josephine could have her talk, but words were all they would ever be.

Josephine opened the door to the portico, and I stepped through. A few torches continued to burn, so we weren’t left in complete darkness. A similar light emanated from my palm, and I closed my fingers around the crystal. Despite the earlier commotion, I’d managed to keep hold of it. I could feel its warmth against my mark, and I let out a breath. I should just discard it already.

Josephine stopped before a bench and sat down. She patted the seat beside her, and I reluctantly took it.

“I won’t hide behind decorum, Inquisitor.” Her gaze softened, suddenly free of the mask she was so accustomed to wearing. “I’m really, really worried about you. We all are. I had thought some time to yourself would’ve granted you clarity, but I see now that was wrong of me.” She faced me directly. “I want to know what has come over you, what is it that has you acting so distant and afraid?”

My fingers clenched around the crystal.

“Why do you care?” My voice was quiet. “Worried that the Inquisition is going to fall apart?”

“Don’t try to change the subject.” Josephine’s eyes narrowed. “My concerns have nothing to do with the rest of the Inquisition, nor what the people might think.” She shook her head. “Why is it so difficult to believe I care for you as a person? That I hate feeling so helpless, seeing you like this?”

Her words struck a chord, and I tensed.

“There’s nothing you can do,” I said, pushing back the feelings she stirred. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

“Or so you have convinced yourself,” Josephine answered. Her eyes were pleading. “I don’t understand why you won’t confide in me anymore. We all know the Nightmare did something else to you, and we want to help. _I_ want to help.” She touched my wrist. “Please, talk to me.”

I turned my gaze to the flowers, filled with uncertainty. The crystal suddenly felt so heavy in my hand; a burden I could no longer carry alone. Its web of suffering had spread too much, like a blanket smothering out all brightness that had entered my life. It would drag me into the abyss; a thought that now terrified me.

But maybe…maybe it wasn’t too late.

Letting out a deep sigh, I offered my hand. Josephine glanced at the crystal, raising a brow.

“What is this?” she asked.

“A memory,” I said. “My memory. It…” I hesitated. “It should tell you what you want to know.”

Josephine stared at me. I deliberately avoided her gaze, my arm trembling. If I met her eyes, I wouldn’t be able to offer this piece of myself again.

“Are you sure?”

I couldn’t bring myself to speak. Instead I pushed the crystal into her hand, before I’d change my mind. Josephine took it, and the shard began to glow. The veins of lyrium flashed, and the vision projected into the air. Josephine gasped, while I grimaced. She was completely silent, her mouth agape as she watched events play out.

Finally, the vision ended. The light surrounding the crystal died, and then it shattered. Josephine blinked, returned to the present. The powder spilled between her fingers, glittering to the ground. She ignored it, staring at the space where the memory had been.

“That…I can’t believe…” She shook her head. “That was horrible! To have almost had to face Tranquility for a crime you did not commit, convicted by your best friend…” She held my arm, and it took all of my willpower not to flinch. “Why did you not say anything?”

I turned away.

“What good would it have done?” I asked. “It doesn’t change what happened.”

“But we are your friends, are we not?”

“That means nothing!” I threw off her hand, suddenly reviled. “It’s an empty word people hide behind so they can use you without feeling guilty!” I swallowed back the tightness in my throat. “I’m not giving anyone else permission to treat me like that again, and if that bothers you then…”

“It is not just us who are ‘bothered’ by it!” Josephine snapped, unable to hide her temper any longer. “You don’t speak outside of battle meetings, you hide away whenever we approach, you can’t even keep eye contact with Cullen, Leliana or myself! You are pushing us aside, trying to take on everything by yourself, and you can’t shoulder such a burden. No-one can!” Her voice softened. “You are hurting deeply, Inquisitor, and I can’t ignore it any longer.”

Somehow, I found the courage to meet her eyes. They burned with sincerity. Even then I couldn’t stand it, and had to break my gaze. It couldn’t be true. I’d seen just the same before. It was an act, a pretence. And it would always lead to the same conclusion.

“Why do you waste yourself on me?” I asked. “Are you so afraid to lose your weapon against the darkness? That you feel you must convince me about the duty I’m obliged to fulfil?”

“Why do you keep coming up with such nonsense?!” Josephine held her forehead. “Did all the time we spent together come solely for sake of this ‘duty’?” She stood up and began to pace the portico. “All those long discussions upon your balcony, those evenings in the tavern, our walks through this very garden…” She took a breath. “You even risked yourself against the assassins of House Repose for me. You restored my family’s name after centuries of disgrace, and for what? A sense of _duty_?”

“I didn’t want anything owed to me,” I hissed. “And I don’t want any of this anymore. No-one needs to be involved in my affairs, and neither me in theirs. I can handle myself!”

“As you handled yourself in Crestwood?” Josephine asked. “Had Cassandra not followed you…”

“…then she wouldn’t have been injured!” I snapped. “I never asked her to help. I never asked _any_ of you for this!” My voice lost some of its certainty. “You saw what happened when I gave someone my unconditional trust. I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

“Then why did you decide to let me see it?” Josephine shot back. “Why tell me you have no interest for those who care about you, then allow yourself to reveal such a painful memory?” She returned to my side. “You wouldn’t have done that if there wasn’t a part of you that still trusts. Not everyone is like Kianna, and deep down you realise this as well. You only have to look how far the Inquisition has come, and it’s because you gave a chance to those who wanted to help.”

“I’m not their friend,” I snarled. “I’m their _symbol_.” I stared at my left hand, disgusted. “You raised me to be this holy saviour when it’s nothing but a lie!”

“‘ _We’_ raised nothing,” Josephine countered. “You garnered your reputation through your own efforts, not rumours and hearsay.” She leant against the bench, sighing. “I am wasting my breath, aren’t I? There is more to this than just Kianna’s betrayal, and only now am I starting to see it.” She paused. “You feel that because she left you so coldly, so easily, you are unworthy of being loved.”

Her words were like icicles through my chest; cold, intense, hurtful, true.

“Why else would she have done that to me,” I whispered, drawing my arms around myself. “It will be just the same when Corypheus is defeated.”

“You are tormenting yourself for no reason, Inquisitor,” Josephine murmured. “You can’t let such crippling doubts hold you back, not when you know better. When you’ve _seen_ better.” She made to touch my face. “I can take that fear away from you…”

“Why won’t you just listen to me?!” I caught her wrist, turning it aside, and stood up. “I don’t need your help! I never asked for it, and never wanted it! I just want to be left alone!”

“Stop lying to yourself!” Josephine snatched my arms. “Are you really so blind? This isn’t what you want at all. I understand not wanting to be betrayed like that again, but you cannot accept a guaranteed pain over one that may never return.” She let out a breath. “You don’t have to bear that loneliness, because I will not leave you.”

“You will,” I said hoarsely. “You can say whatever you want; I know how this ends. How it _always_ ends.”

“I won’t!”

“You will!” My fists clenched. “You’ll stick around while I’m useful and then abandon me, just like everyone else!”

“Ugh, what will it take to rid you of this false conviction?!” Josephine held my cheek, forcing me to look at her. “Whatever becomes of the Inquisition matters little to me. I cannot speak for the others, but all I know is that I want to stay by your side, come what may.” With her free hand she took mine, and placed it above her heart. “Why is it so hard to trust what is right in front of you?”

I closed my eyes, hesitant. Her words were so, so convincing. I wanted to believe her…but…

“I…I can’t,” I croaked, shying from her touch. “If I have to go through that once more…”

“You won’t,” Josephine cut me off. “I may have been a bard once, a player of the Game, but if anything that experience taught me the importance of true integrity.” She stroked my cheek. “Emily, I’m begging you. I want to be there for you. Please, let me prove what my heart holds for you.”

My eyes widened. It had been so long since I’d heard my name, it was almost alien.

“Do you think I had forgotten that as well?” Josephine gave a small smile. “You trusted me enough to tell me your real name once. All I’m asking is that you find that same trust again. I swear I will not let you down.”

A lump rose in my throat, and I couldn’t swallow it away. Josephine was opening her heart; a gesture she had long been taught was much too dangerous, if not fatal. Yet here she was, her faith in me strong enough to overcome that fear and take a chance.

And my heart echoed with hers, telling me to do the same.

I could not let Kianna destroy my future any longer.

“You swear?” My voice was cracking.

Josephine’s eyes filled with warmth. She placed both of her hands around mine, and brought them to her lips.

“I swear by Andraste, by the Maker, by whatever powers that govern this world and the next, I will not betray you.” She kissed my hand. “I love you too much for that.”

My eyes filled with tears.

“How can you say such a thing,” I whispered, “when I can’t even love myself?”

“Because such things are not absolutes,” Josephine replied. “You’ve just let your pain drown out the truth for too long. And even if you feel there’s no answer right now, I’ll help you find a new one.”

That did it. The dam finally burst, and I buried my face in my hands. My tears fell freely, and I choked out a sob. Josephine pulled me close, bringing my head to her shoulder. Weeping, I drew into her embrace, my arms wrapping around her. Doubts still hovered at the edge of my thoughts, but my need for her overpowered them. I didn’t want to be alone, I didn’t want to sit in the empty darkness and pretend I was above it all.

I wanted to believe I was worth something again.

“It will be alright,” Josephine said, stroking my hair, not caring for her soaked collar. “I’m here for you, and always will be. I promise.”

I could only nod, unable to speak. I clung to her, taking comfort in her scent and warmth, and praying with all my heart that I’d made the right decision. Even if I could not find love for myself yet, I’d find it for her. It was the least she deserved.

Eventually my breathing calmed, and I pulled away. Josephine wiped the tears from my cheeks. Her touch was too tender, and I had to withdraw.

“I’m sorry, Josephine.” I held a hand to my eyes, sniffing. “I…not yet. It’s still…too much.”

“Of course, I understand,” Josephine said, letting her arm drop. “I am under no illusion this will all simply heal overnight.” She rubbed my shoulder. “But you’ve taken an important first step. And no matter how long it takes, I will be with you for the rest of the way.”

 


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the muse grabbed me and I decided to write an epilogue...

The warmth of the hearth was fading, but I made no move to relight the dwindling embers. I was curled up on the couch in my quarters, a book spread across my lap, although I had not turned a single page in hours. It had been a slow day, with little in the way of missions or excursions, and so I had spent most of my time in my room, alone.

I lay on my side, my head resting on a cushion, and let out a breath. Almost two weeks had passed since my talk with Josephine, and while it had taken some of the burden away, I still felt very vulnerable. It had become easier to face the others and reclaim my title as leader, but away from the planning and strategizing I was still left with coldness within my chest. Some days it was a real struggle to stop my thoughts taking over, repeating every doubt that lingered, and it was all I could do to find the strength to silence them.

But as disappointed as I was with my progress, I knew I would not have come this far if not for Josephine. Her patience was endless, and I couldn’t believe how she could balance her daily duties and still make time for me. Even if we didn’t cross paths during the day, each evening she would come to my room and sit with me, until I would fall asleep. We didn’t always speak or even touch, but it was enough knowing she was _there_.

Nonetheless, my guilt was starting to nag. She was giving me far more than I could in return, and it left a bad taste in my mouth. Part of me hated being so reliant on her, too, when for so long I had fought this battle alone. And since I had nothing to offer her back, what would stop her deciding one day that she had had enough and…

My door groaned, and slow steps broke my thoughts. I closed my eyes, listening as she approached. Her dress rustled across the stone floor, and the couch creaked as she sat beside me. For a long moment we remained in stillness, and then her fingers touched my arm. Her warmth was comforting, and I opened my eyes.

“Oh, so you’re not sleeping after all,” Josephine said. “Are you tired?”

“Not really,” I said, pushing myself upright. The book slipped, and thudded against the floor.

“You look positively enthralled,” Josephine smiled. I managed to bite back a yawn, bending down to retrieve the tome. In truth, I was more bored than anything else. But boredom had a way of bringing back unpleasant memories, and I was glad I no longer had to face my own company.

“It’s been quiet today,” I said, staring at the hearth again.

“Yes, and it does you no good when you are not kept busy,” Josephine remarked. She rested her hand on my thigh. “How about something different for tonight, then? To help awaken your senses?”

I raised a brow. “What do you have in mind?”

“There is no need to look so alarmed, Emily,” Josephine chuckled. “I do not have anything decadent planned.” She stood, straightening the pleats of her dress, and then offered her hand. “Would you care for a dance?”

I stared at her.

“I’m sorry…what?”

“Do not pretend you did not hear me,” Josephine said. “I know you are still not comfortable with closeness, and I really think this will help you overcome that.” Her eyes gleamed. “Come, I saw what you could do at the Winter Palace. And if it becomes too much, just say the word and we will stop.”

I sighed, mulling over her suggestion. It was true that I still could not tolerate certain touches, and I hated not being able to return the same affection she always showed me. Perhaps this would be a gentler way to let me face that fear.

“Alright.”

I stood up, my legs slightly stiff from sitting for so long. Josephine took my wrist, leading me towards the balcony. It was easily wide enough for the two of us. She faced me, taking my palm and placing it at her hip. Her left hand came to my shoulder, while she threaded the fingers of her right through mine. I swallowed, hoping my trembling wasn’t too obvious.

“Don’t we need music?” I asked.

“I think your pulse provides a good tempo right now,” Josephine teased. My face flushed.

Slowly, we started to move. It felt silly at first, swaying in the silence, but I focused on my feet, matching Josephine’s perfectly timed steps. That was when I realised she was indeed following the beat of my heart, although I had no idea how she knew. Perhaps it was because her own heart raced just as much.

The breeze picked up, sending my hair fluttering, and I resisted the urge to break contact and brush it back. It was actually enjoyable, and gradually I started to lose myself in our rhythm. Josephine smiled, sliding her hand to my neck.

“Not bad,” she commented. “You seem a natural at this.”

I didn’t answer, her words provoking an unwanted memory. Lessons started when I was a child, before my magic had appeared and closed that path forever. Although it had only been for a year, dancing had been something I dearly enjoyed, and it had hurt to give it up for sake of something outside of my control. But that night at the Winter Palace had rekindled that joy, and I no longer had to feel ashamed. And now here, with Josephine, I could finally take back a part of myself I had let rot for so long.

She was letting me heal…

Something prickled behind my eyes, and I had to stop.

“Emily?” Josephine drew closer. “What’s wrong?”

I could only shake my head, overwhelmed. How could she give so much? All the pieces of my shattered soul were coming back together, and I couldn’t do anything for her in return. It wasn’t fair, wasn’t right…

“Sorry,” I whimpered, my tears falling freely.

“What are you apologising for?” Josephine pulled me into her arms, and I shivered, overcome with her scent. No, I would not push her away. I had to face this.

“I’m so weak,” I whispered. “You’ve given me everything of yourself, and I can’t even…”

“Hush,” Josephine soothed. “Didn’t I say this would take time?” She withdrew slightly, and she held my cheek. “You are stronger than you know, Emily. You will get through this. And you mustn’t feel you owe me anything. That is not how love works.”

I bit my lip. How she could use that word so freely, without burden or attachment…

“I want to give back,” I murmured. “I want…to show…”

Her fingers softly brushed my jaw, and she tilted my chin up.

“Then close your eyes,” she breathed.

I did as I was told, her breath warm against my skin. My heart thundered, my hands trembling, but this time it was not because of fear. Her lips lightly skimmed my forehead, and then they pressed against my own. It was barely a feather-light glance, but it was enough. Courage I never knew I possessed surged, and I leant forward, wrapping my arms around her. Josephine let out a quiet sigh, deepening our kiss, her fingers tangling in my hair. Her taste was indescribable, banishing the chill within, and all I knew was that I wanted nothing else.

Finally we broke apart, our brows still touching. My chest hummed with warmth, and I tightened our embrace, catching my breath. Josephine was smiling, her eyes content. I could only imagine how much she had longed for such a moment. But I knew it was not enough. Not after everything she had done for me. Yet while the words were on my tongue, that spark of courage had disappeared, and I couldn’t bring them forth.

“It’s okay, Emily,” Josephine murmured, locking her fingers with mine. “I know. You don’t have to say anything.”

She pulled away, but kept our hands linked. We returned to my room, and sat on the couch again. She let me rest against her shoulder, and her arm snaked around my waist. I closed my eyes, feeling her chest rise and fall with every breath. I held her palm tighter, and whispered a silent promise to myself. I _would_ let this scar finally heal, and I would give Josephine everything I had denied her, and more. Even if I risked the same heartache, even if it would confirm all the whispered doubts in my ears, it would all be worth it. I would make it worth it.

I would learn to love again.

END


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